Lilac Wine
by miamoretti
Summary: CS AU: Emma Swan is an international popstar who goes off the grid following a very public and messy breakup with her now-former manager, Neal. Killian Jones works at a small hotel owned by his brother in the rural English village where Emma chooses to hide out. They find themselves drawn to each other, but what will happen when Neal refuses to accept Emma leaving him?
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys!  
So, I wrote a prompt a couple weeks back, and when I happened upon it again last night, my muse went crazy and my hand slipped...and I started writing it! Oops.  
This is a CS Celebrity!AU, and I've never written anything THIS AU before, so I hope I do okay!  
The first chapter is just basically setting up background for Emma. The second chapter will focus on setting up background for Killian and we'll go from there. So stick with me, I'm just laying the foundations now!  
I have no idea how long this will be yet, but I have a rough plan in my head. Until Hannah inspires me and I end up adding new plot twists in, of course!

Ps, reviews feed my muse. Don't let her go hungry! ;) 

* * *

**Lilac Wine  
**

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

There were certain aspects of fame that Emma Swan, international popstar, knew she would never be okay with. Despite the fact that she loved making music and some parts of the lifestyle weren't exactly a hardship (never having to worry about money was certainly a perk), she'd considered making a clean break and giving it all up on more than one occasion.

She never knew whom she could and couldn't trust, so there were very few people she'd ever fully opened up to, Because of this, her intuition was very finely tuned and she became very good at reading people. She had two best friends, Ruby and August, whom she swore knew her better than she knew herself. She could be herself around them; no façade, no fake smiles, no pretence.

Another thing Emma found difficult about life in the public eye was the lack of privacy. She didn't cope well with people prying into her personal life or splashing speculations all over magazine covers. She'd grown up in the foster system until she was twelve years old, when Eva and Leopold Blanchard had taken her in, so privacy was something she'd always treasured. It was a luxury in a group home, but it was something all the kids there clung to.

Mary Margaret, her adoptive sister, had become the person she was closest to out of everyone in her life, and Mary Margaret's high school sweetheart, David, had always been like a big brother to her. The two girls had been amicable when Emma first arrived, but it was only really when their mother passed away in their late teen years that their bond had strengthened. Their father had spiralled into depression for a few years following Eva's death and the two had leaned on each other for support. Since then, they'd remained inseparable and had moved together from their small town in Maine to Southern California for college.

At nineteen, just a few weeks shy of her twentieth birthday and the third anniversary of Eva's passing, Emma had decided on a whim to take part in a college talent show that the Music and Performance majors were putting together. Mary Margaret – who was majoring in Education – had encouraged her, though neither had known that a talent scout was sitting in on auditions and that her last minute decision to take part would lead her to being signed, just weeks later, to a big name record label in Los Angeles.

From there, her rise to stardom was a whirlwind and, at first, Emma struggled to adjust to people recognizing her in the street or accosting her at Whole Foods. She found herself hiding away in the recording studio more and more, just to avoid the inevitable recognition by well-meaning fans on the street. It wasn't that she disliked people being starstruck and gushing over how much they loved her music, quite the opposite in fact. It was simply a case of feeling awkward and uncomfortable in a situation she hadn't yet been schooled on how to handle.

For most of her childhood in the system she'd been used to being ignored, and now everyone knew her name. She'd been a little ugly duckling that nobody wanted, and now she'd blossomed into a beautiful swan and people were falling over themselves to be near her. It was more than a little unnerving.

So locking herself away in the studio and immersing herself in songwriting became her safe place. It also meant she spent a lot of time with her manager, Neal, and they became very close, very quickly. He wasn't phased by the screaming fans or how much money she made, because he'd grown up in the industry, with his father owning the record label Emma was signed to.

She felt safe with Neal. Even if it was something as seemingly minor as him fending off the paparazzi cameras shoved in her face, or sheltering her from people who didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with manhandling her, Neal became someone she relied on to guide her through her newfound fame and all the tricky situations that came along with it.

Mary Margaret and David had repeatedly warned her to be careful when it came to Neal. He was her _manager_, and if things went south, it could become very difficult for her to separate her private life and her work life. Not that there was very much separating the two anyway. Emma had waved away their concerns and changed the subject, but she'd known the topic would be raised again before long.

Ruby and August visited regularly, and even Ruby, who was usually quick to see the good in everyone, had her reservations about Neal. August had always been overly protective of Emma, since they'd grown up in the same group home, so he'd had reservations about every guy she'd ever dated.

"I don't know, Ems. I just don't trust him. He's been great showing you the ropes of being a hot shot popstar and all, sure…but I just think it's a bit of a risk getting involved with him."

Ruby had warned her as they'd sat eating Chinese food curled up in front of the TV in Emma's living room one evening. She'd turned and assured the brunette that they were _not_, in fact, involved. They were just good friends.

"Well, you know who really obviously wants to be more than just good friends with you? And who also seems like a _really _great guy who wouldn't have the option of ruining your career if things went bad? Graham."

Emma's eyebrows had shot up at Ruby's suggestion and she'd almost choked on her noodles. Graham was her guitarist. He was sweet and quiet and extremely talented…and his accent was almost as cute as he was. Emma shook her head. She told Ruby, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want to get involved _period_.

She was quite alright on her own. It was much easier that way, especially considering how much media attention had surrounded her the one time she'd just grabbed lunch in Downtown LA with August. The following day, she'd been in all the magazines, with lots of speculation over her "mystery man".

She'd laughed about it with Ruby, August and Mary Margaret over breakfast, but Neal had stormed into the studio later that morning and yelled at her for being 'careless' and 'provoking unwanted media attention'. He'd made her cry and left to cool down, returning an hour later with apologies for overreacting and her favorite slushee.

Things had remained tense between them for a couple days, but it was all quickly forgotten when Emma's first hit went platinum and he turned up at her place with a bottle of champagne and a huge smile.

When he'd tentatively leaned in and kissed her on her sofa that night, her head fuzzy with the alcohol and high on the adrenaline of her achievement, she'd ignored all the alarm bells and warnings from her friends sounding at the back of her mind and kissed him back.

They'd slept together and in the morning she'd found him in her kitchen, pancakes, fruit salad and a steaming cup of coffee ready for her. He'd kissed her neck as she ate breakfast and then they'd showered together, both avoiding the question of where exactly things would go with them from there.

She kept their night together a secret from her sister and her friends, knowing exactly what they'd say and unwilling to sit through a lecture or see the concern and disapproval on their faces.

She told herself that they didn't know Neal the way she did. They hadn't spent much time with him, so of course they were wary. He didn't have the best track record with women, but she tried not to be bothered by the fact that he'd dated almost every one of his artists over the years.

At first, they kept their relationship between the two of them, both agreeing to tell no one. That was working fine until Ruby – who Emma had totally forgotten had a key to her place – had turned up for a surprise visit and caught them in the pool together…minus their swimwear.

After that, they had no choice but the come clean to her friends and her sister about the fact that they'd been sleeping together for the best part of two months. Ruby tried to be positive about it, but Mary Margaret had been more than a little angry, mostly with Neal.

"You're taking advantage, Neal!" she'd accused, "She's barely twenty one and you're ten years older than her. She's naïve, and she _trusted_ you to look out for her. _I _trusted you to look out for her. You're taking advantage of that trust and this is all gonna end in tears."

Mary Margaret and Emma hadn't spoken for weeks following the altercation with Neal, and with Ruby and August returning to the East coast, she'd felt particularly isolated. Neal had assured her that it would all blow over, and after a while, it did. Things got better and Mary Margaret grudgingly agreed to be civil with Neal, though she made it very clear to her sister that she didn't like him.

It took a little longer than any of them had expected for the media to get wind of the relationship between Emma and Neal, but when the story broke, they'd had plenty time to brace themselves for the sheer amount of attention it generated. Emma found herself shrinking even further away from the spotlight, passing on most of the premieres and award shows she was invited to.

That was, until Mr. Gold, Neal's father and the owner of the record label Emma was signed to, paid her a visit one afternoon at the recording studio. He was polite and professional, but he told her, in no uncertain terms, that she _would_ attend award shows and she _would_ get used to being in the spotlight. It wasn't good for the image of his label if its stars were so 'antisocial'.

She'd reluctantly agreed, and had turned up to the next red carpet event with pre-prepared fake smiles and Neal on her arm. She'd spent most of the evening with her nails digging into Neal's arm through his tux, trying her best not to flinch when a thousand camera flashes blinded her at once.

She'd been more than relieved when the evening was over, and had retreated to the comforting, quiet safety of her house. Neal had accompanied her home, of course, but had made excuses as to why he wouldn't be staying the night.

The first time she thought nothing of it, but over the following couple of months he began disappearing more regularly. At first he'd had a variety of excuses. He was up early for a meeting. Or he was scouting new talent and had lots of paperwork to get on top of. Or simply, he was tired and wanted to get home. Over the months, she began to expect the excuses, until he finally gave up the effort and simply kissed her goodnight.

Part of her was angry and frustrated at the way he blew hot and cold with her, but there was a small part that was too fearful of losing him to challenge his behavior. They'd ended up in blazing arguments the few times she'd brought it up, and it took a while for her to agree with her sister when Mary Margaret told her she deserved better.

On their second anniversary, when Neal stood her up at the restaurant he'd booked for them a week previously, Emma had reached her breaking point. She'd made enough excuses for him over their two years together. Leaving the restaurant and narrowly avoiding a gaggle of photographers hanging around on the corner waiting for her, she'd ducked into her car and headed for home, determined that she was done with it all.

She didn't know where he was, or whom he was with, and she didn't want to know. All the magazines would answer those questions anyway, because they seemed to know more about her love life than she did.

The only thing she had on her mind as she headed for home was booking the first flight out of LA and going off the grid for a little while. She'd find a place no one had heard of, somewhere quaint and out of the way, and she'd disappear until her name was just a vague memory and her face was no longer plastered all over every magazine in the city.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian Backstory time!  
This turned out waaaaay angsty-er than I anticipated, but I went with it.  
Also, I watched Signs and I may or may not have lifted some lines from it (from the part where Mel Gibson's wife died), so please accept this as a disclaimer and don't sue me. I'm only worth, like, two slices of pizza, some kale and a fruit roll-up or two.  
Anyhow, enjoy. The 'present day' stuff will start next chapter.

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Killian Jones had spent the best part of four years trying to decide what to do with his life, and working at his brother Liam's renovated manor house hotel, Jewel of the Realm, in the rolling hills of the English Midland countryside while he did so.

Straight out of university, at 21 years old, Killian had moved to London to chase a job opportunity and a girl. Milah had been on his marine engineering course – one of only seven girls on a hugely male-dominated course – and she'd caught his eye right from the beginning. Though he'd never had any trouble charming the ladies with his cheeky smile, enchanting blue eyes and mischievous sense of humor, he found Milah somewhat of a challenge.

When he found out from his friend, who may or may not have been put up to a little bit of snooping, that she was dating someone, he'd been rather disheartened. But a few weeks later, at a party they both happened to have been dragged to by their friends, she'd struck up conversation with him over the punch bowl. By the end of the night they were making out in a closet and he knew he was in trouble.

For the rest of their three years at university, they were inseparable. He was madly in love with her, and his brother's girlfriend, Jane, often teased him for being so smitten.

"_Killy, you look at her as though she hung the moon."_

Jane would laugh and Killian glared at her, knowing he couldn't really argue with that. She always had been able to read him like a book. Killian and Liam's mother had died in childbirth and after their father abandoned them, Liam had raised his younger brother himself. Jane had always been somewhat of a maternal figure to Killian, despite not being all that much older than him.

Upon graduating, Milah had moved back to live closer to her parents on the South coast and Killian had followed shortly after, with the dazzling opportunity of a Junior Technical Superintendant job waiting for him there. Everything was working out perfectly and they spent two years making a life together. They'd bought a house, got engaged…

And then the accident happened.

It was a Tuesday like any other. 6pm. Killian had just returned home from work and was somewhat surprised to find the house empty. Milah usually arrived back before him, but he shrugged it off and figured she must have been held up.

By 8pm, with no word from her, he was worrying.

By 10pm, he'd tried her cell phone twelve times, called her workplace and her best friend. Nothing. No one had heard from her. His stomach was in knots and he was about to resort to driving round town looking for her when he saw the flashing blue lights of a cop car pulling over across the street.

His heart had stuttered, instinctively knowing his worst fears were about to become a reality. Feeling the coldbumps rising on his arms and the twisting of anxiety in his gut making him feel like he was about to throw up, he rushed out to meet them, silently pleading with a God he wasn't even sure he believed in to let her be alright.

The grave expressions on both of the cops' faces told him that his world was about to fall apart. They requested he go with them immediately, and that they would explain everything on the way. One of the cops, a woman who reminded Killian of Milah's mother, had accompanied him in the back of the car and held his hand as she gently informed him of what had happened.

Milah had been driving home from work, a little late because of diversions and heavy traffic, when a truck driver on the opposite side of the road had suffered a massive heart attack at the wheel. He'd drifted straight across four lanes and caused a massive pileup, taking out Milah's car and two others in the process. Milah had appeared to be the most stable out of the casualties, but her car was crushed in the most difficult position.

The middle-aged couple in one of the other cars had died on impact and the pregnant woman with her husband and young child in the second car were prioritized. They'd been air lifted first, while the rescue team had waited on the heavy machinery needed to cut Milah free from the wreckage.

When they'd cut away the frame of the car, allowing better access for the emergency medics, her stable condition was revealed to be anything but a good sign. She was wedged into her seat by a metal frame panel that had been shunted forwards by the force of impact and crushed the entire bottom half of her body.

Though she appeared stable and alert while the metal frame remained where it was, it was clear to the medics that Milah would not survive once it was removed. The moment they released her from the wreckage, toxins would fly through her system and stop her heart. They quickly asked her who she would like them to call, and immediately dispatched officers to pick up Killian and return him to the scene as quickly as possible.

As they tried to explain to her, as gently as possible, why they had stopped removing parts of the car to get her out, Milah had panicked and tried frantically to free herself. They did their best to talk her down, and by the time Killian arrived, dazed and drained of color, she was quietly crying but all the fight had left her.

He'd rushed over to be by her side, the policewoman's words resounding in his head as his eyes drifted over the wreckage.

"_I need to prepare you for what you're going to see when we get there, Mr. Jones. Your fiancée…she's been involved in an accident involving a truck and two other cars. She's…she's pinned into her car at the moment. The truck…it hit her car first and the impact has severed most of her lower half. She won't be saved. Her body is pinned in such a way that it's alive when it shouldn't be. And the car is holding her together."_

_There were tears in the woman's eyes as she gripped his hand tightly. He'd simply stared at her, numb and dizzy with his body trembling with shock, and she'd continued._

"_She doesn't feel much, and she's awake, and talking. The rescue team hasn't released her yet though…you'll be with her for that. She…she won't be awake for very long when they do. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Mr. Jones?"_

The sight of Milah, tears streaking down her cheeks and dried blood staining the side of her face, stole the air from his lungs. His chest felt like a vacuum as he took hold of her hand and she cried out his name.

He swallowed hard, eyes locked on her face, trying to ignore the chaos surrounding them and the fact that a metal panel was the only thing holding her together. He whispered her name and told her over and over that he loved her; pressing kisses to her knuckles and silently praying for more time.

But he could see her fading away in front of his eyes. She was shivering, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms the way he had done so many nights before. But not like this. Never like this.

He'd pleaded with her to hold on, stretched over what was left of the car's doorframe and pressed desperate kisses to her lips. She'd leaned into his kiss, heartbroken sobs falling against his lips as she grew weaker by the second.

An agonized cry ripped from him as he felt her slip away, his hands in her hair as he pleaded, again and again, for her not to leave him. But her eyes glazed over as he held her, his tears and her blood soaking his shirt, and just like that, his world had fallen apart at the seams.

That night had never left him. The horror and surreal agony of it all had invaded his sleep and even years later he still sometimes awoke in a cold sweat, the memories painfully vivid and still so raw.

In the months following Milah's death, Killian had gone through the motions, but he was completely numb. Their friends had rallied around to take care of him, and on the outside he'd appeared to be coping incredibly well. But inside, he struggled to feel anything other than crushing loss.

On what should have been their wedding day, something inside him finally snapped. He needed to move as far away from the southern coastal town as he physically could. Every street, every park bench and every broken sidewalk reminded him of Milah, and he was slowly dying a little more each day he spent surrounded by the life they'd had.

He'd put everything in order, quit his job and moved to live further north with his brother in the beautiful countryside of Worcestershire. Liam had spent many years rebuilding and renovating a large manor house, turning it into a stunning yet relatively modest hotel. Over the summer seasons, business was fantastic, which allowed for him to limit availability out-of-season and take off on jaunts around Europe with Jane.

When Killian moved in, Liam asked no questions, allowing him space and knowing that if his brother wanted to talk about it, he would. Of course, he knew most of the details of what had happened, thanks to media coverage, but he chose not to talk about it unless Killian was the one to bring it up.

Months had quickly turned into years and the pain of losing Milah slowly ebbed away. Or perhaps, Killian mused, he'd just become so used to the aching emptiness of life without her that it didn't cut right to the bone anymore. He was sure it would never truly leave him, and Milah would _always_ be a part of him no matter how many years passed, but he had slowly started to live again.

He often remembered the first time he'd laughed again after the accident, and the guilt that had cursed through him when he'd realized that something had momentarily broken through the haze of grief, just four months after he'd lost her.

He didn't laugh again for quite a while after that, until he slowly began to realize that _he_ was still alive, and by stumbling through the rest of his years in a grey cloud of misery, he was defacing the beautiful memory of her.

He chose to start remembering the good things, instead of letting his pain overshadow the precious memories they'd made in their years together. He remembered her laugh most of all.

Milah's laugh had always lit up the room, at least for him, and he had always likened it to music. The lilts and lifts of it had warmed his heart and effortlessly brought a smile to his face. He also remembered the way her eyes changed color with the weather, grey to blue and everything in between.

And by opening his heart to the warmth of good memories, he finally found peace with moving on. It had taken four years to get to that point, but he finally felt ready to start a new chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"I'm going to England. I don't know where yet. Just…_not_ London."

Emma had booked the first flight out of LAX, packed everything she could fit into one suitcase and called Mary Margaret on her way out of the door. She was aware she wasn't thinking straight and should probably just call Neal so he could explain himself, but she was so _sick_ of his excuses. She was sick of not being in charge of her own life anymore and she needed a change. A big one.

She'd half-expected her sister to talk her down and convince her not to _flee the freaking country _over a missed anniversary dinner, but to her surprise, Mary Margaret was nothing but supportive and had even put David on the phone to give her the details of a hotel run by 'a friend of a friend' he'd met while travelling around Europe one summer.

With the phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear, she punched the name and telephone number of the hotel into her tablet and thanked David before hurriedly hanging up with promises that she'd call when she landed in England. She also made him swear on her future nieces' and nephews' lives that they wouldn't tell Neal where she was going.

LAX was as bustling as ever, and somewhat daunting without her personal security accompanying her. She grimaced and pulled her snapback down, hating that she'd become so accustomed to such a sheltered life that she felt vulnerable without goddamn personal security guards now.

Thankfully, other than a few stares and some waving and pointing from a handful of pre-teens, she was left alone and most people were too pre-occupied with their own lives and making their flights to pay any attention to a pop-star wandering through LAX on her own.

After checking in (and pointedly avoiding the confused stare from the lady at the check in desk when she informed her she was travelling alone – '_no, no security guy…'_), Emma hurriedly made her way to the departures lounge.

She was grateful that First Class afforded her the luxury of hiding away in the corner of a room with businessmen and a handful of other well-known faces from the showbiz world as they waited to board. Mostly, everyone in first class lounges ignored each other, which was one thing Emma loved about those places.

The wait for the boarding time seemed to last forever and she tried to force herself to stop checking the time. As the minutes passed, she felt the tension in her shoulders easing marginally, knowing that soon she'd be on the opposite side of the world from her mess of a personal life.

_Out of sight, out of mind? Probably not._

She thought with a pang of bitterness. She couldn't help but wonder where Neal was in that moment. At the bar with his friends, too drunk to remember where he was _supposed_ to be? Or perhaps he was with that Tamara girl he'd been so focused on lately. The new girl he'd recently signed to the label.

Emma scowled and chastised herself for the jealousy that girl had brought out in her, but she couldn't help it. How exactly was she meant to feel when her manager – her _boyfriend _– blew her off, on a handful of occasions, because he was too busy wooing the new signee?

When her flight was finally called, Emma gathered her tote bag and made for the desk where a perfectly made-up attendant smiled brightly – much too brightly for such a late hour – and took her passport. Just as she started down the tunnel toward the plane, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and pulled it out to see Neal's caller ID.

With more force than was really required, she quickly declined the call and switched her phone off. Now it was his turn to be in the dark and wonder where the hell _she _was.

* * *

CS

* * *

Liam had set off on a Mediterranean cruise with Jane three days earlier and Killian was left in charge of _The_ _Jewel_. It was a routine they were used to, and he quite enjoyed busying himself with the small handful of guests that turned up out of season.

During this time of year, it was mostly older couples staying and they tended to be very low maintenance, mostly using the hotel as a base and often filling their days with trips around the countryside or lake cruises. That generally left Killian alone, which suited him just fine.

When a new booking popped up on the lobby area's computer one particularly slow afternoon, he quirked an eyebrow and opened it with mild interest. There were no specific details; just a name – _E Swan _– and a telephone number that was decidedly not a UK one.

Noting that the booking was for the next day, Killian copied the details into the guestbook and quickly went to give the suite room he'd assigned to _E. Swan_ a once over and restocked the minibar.

It was uncharacteristically warm for October, so Killian spent the rest of his day sitting on the deck outside his room with a book and absently wondering about the mysterious guest with no first name and a foreign telephone number.

* * *

CS

* * *

By the time the plane landed at London Heathrow, Emma was more than ready for a shower and a full-sized bed. As comfortable as the First Class sleeper booths were, and as thankful as she was that she'd been able to book a direct flight so last minute, she always felt gross when she stepped off long-haul flights. She was used to them, of course, but it didn't mean she enjoyed them.

Shuffling through Arrivals and self-consciously tugging her snapback as far down as possible to try and keep as low profile as she could, Emma waited anxiously to get through immigration and collect her luggage. Forcing a tight smile when the young immigration guy recognized her, drawing the attention of the people in line behind her, she hurried through and made a dash for the luggage carrousel.

Snatching her suitcase at the first available opportunity, Emma breathed a silent sigh of relief when she found no paparazzi cameras waiting outside, just overly-enthused faces awaiting family members and a bunch of bored-looking drivers with nameplates waiting for their bookings.

Inwardly wincing, that was the moment Emma realized she'd forgotten to book a car to get her to this middle-of-nowhere hotel she was so eager to disappear to. Usually her PA, Belle, would have arranged that. But she'd given Belle the night off before she'd left to meet Neal – not anticipating that little over twelve hours later she'd be on the other side of the Atlantic – and now she was stuck. In the middle of Heathrow Airport. During rush hour.

Pulling out her cell phone and switching it on, she found numerous missed calls from Neal and a text from Mary Margaret wishing her luck and reminding her to "CALL ME WHEN YOU LAND. I worry about you". Ignoring them, she scrolled through to find the number she'd saved for the hotel, grateful she'd transferred it to her phone considering her tablet had run out of battery halfway through the flight.

Quickly hitting call, she shuffled to the nearest quiet corner of the airport and waited for someone to pick up her call. Finally, the deliciously lilting accent of a man she guessed was around about her own age answered.

"Jewel of The Realm, Killian Jones speaking. How can I help you?"

Emma bit her lip, his name repeating in her head. It was unusual; she liked it.

"Hi, erm, Killian? My name's Emma…I have a reservation with you. My flight just landed at London Heathrow…"

She paused and cursed herself again for overlooking car transport. She'd never driven on the other side of the road, and she had no idea where she was going so she knew she wouldn't trust herself to simply hire a car.

"That's quite a distance from our hotel, Emma with no last name. Do you have transport?"

Killian commented, and she could _hear_ his smile. Sighing, she let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, wondering if she'd be able to atone for the 'dumb American' persona she'd already managed to present less than a minute into speaking to this stranger.

"Sorry, my last name is Swan. I booked under E. Swan? And no, I don't have transport. I booked my flight last minute and I usually have my…erm, someone to sort this stuff out for me. So, I _may_ have overlooked this _minor_ detail," she laughed again, "Does your hotel, by any chance, send cars? I have no idea where you are in relation to the airport."

There was a pause across the line before he asked her to 'hang on a sec' and she couldn't help but smile at how frightfully British that sounded on him. Part of her hoped that he wouldn't know who she was when she arrived at his hotel (if she _ever _arrived at his hotel), because she got the distinct feeling that this guy was quite likeable, and often people got weird when they realized she was famous.

Waiting impatiently and avoiding the intense stares from people milling around in Arrivals, she was relieved when his voice came back on the line.

"Hi, Ms. Swan? We don't have any cars or minibuses out of season...but I've got two options for you."

Emma's heart sank slightly at first and she perched on the corner of her suitcase in defeat. But her ears pricked up quickly and she smiled. This guy would definitely be getting tipped well.

"Go on, I'm listening. And please, call me Emma."

"Right, Emma. So, I just checked the trains for you and you can either get one from Paddington station to Worcester – takes about two and a half hours – and I can pick you up when you get to this end…or, you can go find a bar, have a couple of drinks and relax while I drive down to get you. Not a service we usually offer, but-"

"Oh my god, you are an actual living angel. I have no idea where I am or how to get around and I would _so _appreciate you coming to get me!"

Emma was near tears with the relief that washed over her, knowing she didn't have to fumble her way across London and figure out trains as well now. He told her to note down his cell phone number and to text it to let him know where she'd be waiting for him, which she quickly agreed to. Relief and exhaustion vying for dominance, Emma thanked him again.

"Right you are. I'll be there in less than 3 hours, hopefully. Unless I get stuck in traffic, but I'll keep you updated. See you soon, Emma."

He hung up and Emma stuffed her phone into her jacket before ducking her head and making for the exit with a smile on her face. Whoever this Killian Jones was, he was clearly her guardian angel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Killian sighed. He didn't know what it was about the girl with the pretty name and even prettier voice, but he'd felt inclined to go above and beyond to help her out. And now he'd roped himself into driving to London, in rush hour, to pickup a stranger. She could be a serial killer, for all he knew. Chuckling, he brushed that notion away. She certainly didn't _sound_ like a serial killer.

But her voice did sound familiar, and he couldn't place it. Maybe she did voiceovers or something. Or maybe he'd just watched too many American sitcoms and they all sounded the same to him?

Shrugging, he jotted a quick note down to leave on the front desk to explain his absence for the evening before heading out. Luckily the only guests were regulars (so regular now that they referred to him by his pet name, Killy) so he was sure they'd have no issue with him disappearing for a while. They knew the hotel as well as he did, so if they needed anything they'd usually forgo asking and get it themselves anyway.

Putting his car in drive and rolling down his window, he was thankful it was a balmy night and that he didn't have to make an unexpected six-hour roundtrip in the pouring rain.

With his radio turned up and the roads surprisingly clear most of the way, all the midweek traffic heading _away _from London, he made good time and quite enjoyed what could have ended up being a very tedious journey.

When he neared West Drayton, he pulled over at a rest stop to check his phone, not wanting to get caught up in Heathrow traffic if she'd jumped a taxi somewhere else. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips as he saw a text from a +1 number.

_Hi, Killian. It's Emma.  
I'm at the Hilton Hotel near the airport.  
I hope your journey hasn't been too bad. I owe you a drink. Maybe not before the drive back though.  
See you soon. E._

Killian chuckled and quickly tapped out a reply.

_Hi, Emma. Killian here.  
I'll be twenty minutes and I'll take you up on that drink offer when we get back, though I'm not sure it counts if it's from my own bar! ;)  
K._

He quickly pressed send and then winced, hoping she didn't read it as too flirty or inappropriate with the winking emoji on the end. They hadn't even met yet, and he certainly wasn't in the habit of sending texts to women he didn't know with winking emojis.

'_God, Killian.'_

He muttered, rolling his eyes at himself as he pulled out into traffic and headed east with his mind conjuring a mental image of this mysterious Emma Swan he'd driven down the country for at a moment's notice.

* * *

CS

* * *

Emma had jumped into a taxi outside Arrivals and quickly put on her oversized sunglasses, despite the fact that the early evening sun was close to setting and it certainly wasn't bright enough to warrant sunglasses. But she was doing all she could to avoid being recognized, considering she'd be a sitting duck in a hotel bar for at least 3 hours.

She told to driver to go to the closest Hilton, knowing that there had _always_ seemed to be a Hilton in close proximity to every airport she'd been to. And she'd been to a lot of airports.

The driver had done a double take in his mirror, eyes widening when he apparently recognized her, but he simply nodded and swung the car around. Despite the looks he kept sneaking in his mirror at her, she appreciated that he didn't ask for her autograph or try to strike up conversation.

Tipping him well and offering him a warm smile as he pulled up a few short minutes later in front of the Hilton, she hurried into the lobby and glanced around for elevators.

A suited young woman with a Hilton Hotel name badge on her breast pocket approached with a painted-on smile. When Emma slid her glasses down her nose slightly, the girl gave a start but quickly regained her composure.

"Oh, erm…Ms. Swan? Shall I have your bag taken to your room?"

Emma shook her head and looked around conspirationally, taking the girl's arm and tugging her to the side of the lobby.

"I don't have a booking…and I need you to do me a favor," at the girl's eager nod she continued, "I want to stay as under-the-radar as possible. Do you have a room that I can, like, hide out in for the next few hours? I'll pay for a night but I just need it for about three hours."

She took the girl's hand and slipped her credit card into her palm, watching as her eyes went wide. She blinked a few times before nodding toward the reception desk.

"I can go make a reservation right now for you. Is it a suite you'd like?"

"Any. Single, double, suite. Whatever you have available. I won't be staying the night, I just…I need to keep a low profile and that's kinda hard sitting in a hotel bar, y'know?"

The girl nodded again, excusing herself to walk as inconspicuously yet quickly as she could over to the reception desk, which she leaned over to speak to her colleague, before returning a few moments later and gesturing to the elevator.

Emma walked over to her and she held out a keycard, whispered "room 390 on the fifth floor" and gave her a warm smile, nodding toward the elevator she'd already called. Emma slid a £50 note into her hand and thanked her quietly, slipping into the elevator and breathing a long sigh of relief as the doors rolled closed.

She'd managed to avoid being spotted by _too_ many people, and she was hoping she'd manage to stay out of the magazines. Because Neal would surely be chasing up with his contacts to find her, and if she could just keep her head down for a little while longer, he'd have nothing to go on.

Locking the door behind her, she shrugged off her jacket, threw her snapback and glasses onto the side-table and moved to sit down on the plush sofa in the living room area. She grabbed the TV remote and kicked off her shoes, a long sigh passing her lips as she searched for the movie channels. If she had to waste three hours, she knew there were plenty movies that would do the job.

And she was right. By the time she'd finished watching The Princess Bride, she'd already killed over an hour and a half and could feel her stomach grumbling loudly. It was just after 7pm and she was debating whether to order room service when her phone vibrated.

Frowning, she picked it up from the table and was surprised to see a message from Killian. Skimming over the message, she smiled. He'd made very good time if he was only twenty minutes away.

She wasted a few minutes gathering her belongings and switched off the TV, making sure everything in the room was as pristine as it had been when she walked in, before she headed for the door and slowly made her way down to the lobby.

She realized in the elevator that she had absolutely no idea what this Killian Jones guy looked like, and she didn't exactly want to approach any man who happened to cast a pointed glance her way. Digging her phone out of her pocket, she pulled up her messages and typed one out.

_Killian, I just realized that I have no idea what you look like or what car to look out for. Let me know what you're driving and your license plate number. I'll wait out front._

_E._

She'd hoped to dive out of the lobby and straight into his car the moment he pulled up but she knew that scenario was highly unlikely considering she had a rather large and heavy suitcase, and she didn't know what car she was supposed to be diving into. Luckily, he responded quickly.

_I'm in a black Toyota RAV4, number plate ending in KEJ.  
ETA three minutes.  
K._

Emma smiled, noting the lack of winking emojis and wondering if it would be bad form to tease him about that when they were only just about to meet. Slipping her phone back in her pocket, she rolling her case to the edge of the drop-off and pick-up bay, making sure to stand off to the side and avoid crashing into anyone. No good making a scene when she'd managed to keep on the downlow so well thus far.

Catching sight of a black SUV approaching, her eyes flickered to the number plate and her heart jumped. KEJ. It was him.

She waited until he rolled into the bay and jumped out of the car, ignoring the way her stomach dropped when she caught sight of him. He was _gorgeous_.

She'd only been afforded a quick glance as he jumped out and rounded to back of the car to pop the trunk for her, but when she finally stood in front of him, a pair of incredible, too-blue-to-be-legal eyes twinkling down at her as he offered her a grin and extended his hand, her breath caught in her throat.

She looked down at his hand dumbly for a moment before offering him a warm smile as she took it.

"Emma, I take it? I'm Killian. Very nice to meet you."

She faltered for a moment, hoping that the complete lack of recognition in his expression was for real. It had been a while since she'd met anyone by chance that didn't immediately know who she was. She sincerely hoped he wasn't just overlooking it out of politeness.

"Killian, I can't thank you enough for driving down here. Seriously, you've saved my life."

He smiled that disarming smile of his again and gestured to the car.

"It's nothing, honestly. Shall we head back? I didn't stop to grab dinner, so I was thinking-"

"I'm starving, so I'm definitely liking whatever you're thinking. And dinner's on me."

His smile widened and he laughed lightly with a succinct nod of thanks. Once they were in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, he turned to her.

"So, Emma. I know we've just met and all, but where would you like to take me to dinner?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Well, Emma Swan certainly lived up to the beauty of her name, Killian mused as he pulled up outside the Hilton and caught sight of whom he assumed was his mystery guest. The blonde who was hurrying towards his car and pointedly avoiding eye contact with concierges – or, well, anyone really – was quite the stunner.

Even dressed simply in dark blue skinny jeans – that clung to her long legs in _all_ the right ways – a plain, off-the-shoulder black top and red leather jacket, she was still a sight to behold. Her long hair fell in golden waves over her shoulders but she had a snapback cap and huge sunglasses obscuring most of her face.

He immediately jumped out, leaving the car running and popping the trunk as he waited for her to reach him. Once she'd helped hoist her case into the trunk, she removed her sunglasses (really, why on earth was she wearing sunglasses in the evening?) and all other thoughts immediately disappeared from his head.

He found himself staring into the most beautiful green eyes he'd ever seen, his heart stumbling in his chest before he quickly composed himself and offered her a dazzling smile. Instinctively, he extended his hand in greeting, feeling slightly awkward considering he felt like he knew this stranger already.

Her eyes left his then and dropped to stare at his outstretched hand as though she'd never seen such a greeting. He felt somewhat relieved that she seemed to have been thrown just as off-kilter as he had and watched as she quickly snapped out of her thoughts, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

'_Wow…' _he thought breathlessly, '_that smile could power the hotel for a week._'

Squeezing her delicate hand briefly he finally found his voice.

"Emma, I take it? I'm Killian. Very nice to meet you."

He saw her smile falter for half a second and he couldn't put his finger on what he saw flash in her eyes. He also couldn't shake the feeling that she was strikingly familiar, somehow. That was impossible, of course, because he knew he would surely have remembered such a beauty if their paths had crossed before.

"Killian, I can't thank you enough for driving down here. Seriously, you've saved my life."

Killian grinned and shook his head, gesturing to the car and putting a bit more space between them. He hadn't felt so instantly drawn to anyone since Milah, and the fact that he'd literally just met this woman and she was already stirring feelings he didn't think he'd ever be capable of feeling again was unnerving him.

"It's nothing, honestly. Shall we head back? I didn't stop to grab dinner, so I was thinking-"

"I'm starving, so I'm definitely liking whatever you're thinking. And dinner's on me."

Free food? Killian Jones would never say no to such an offer. And he could tell that Emma wouldn't take no for an answer, even if he tried. So if she wanted to buy them both dinner as a way of thanking him for driving across the country for her, then who was he to decline?

"So, Emma. I know we've just met and all, but where would you like to take me for dinner?"

* * *

CS

* * *

Big Macs weren't exactly gourmet cuisine, but fast food sated their appetites and afforded them the luxury of staying on the road. Killian had suggested McDonalds and Emma had wholeheartedly agreed. It had been _so_ long since she'd indulged her craving for fried food.

Back home, if there were any big events on the schedule she was often forced to endure 'juice only' days, and even on 'regular' days she didn't find her meal plans particularly appetizing.

She had a funny relationship with food after a turbulent childhood in the system. She never spoke of it, but too many homes she'd lived in before the Blanchards had taken her in had used deprivation tactics as punishments, meaning that from being very young, Emma was often starved. Or worse.

And she'd found that the lifestyles of many in the spotlight mimicked those starvation tactics, but romanticized them and paraded them around as beauty quick fixes. She wasn't surprised that eating disorders were rife among young starlets.

As they hit the highway – or _motorway_, as he'd called it – Emma watched him out of the corner of her eye. They'd made idle chit chat for the first ten minutes of the journey, mostly discussing where to eat, then they'd made a quick stop at McDonalds. Now, they were sitting in comfortable silence with the low hum of the radio providing some background noise.

"So, Killian Jones," she started, and his gaze flickered over to her briefly, "driving three hours to the airport for your guests doesn't seem like something you make a habit of."

Killian chuckled and flashed her a smile that had butterflies taking flight in her stomach, but she pointedly chose to ignore that fact.

"No, love, I can't say I've done it before. But what can I say? I'm a sucker for coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress."

'_An incredibly beautiful damsel in distress too.'_

He added silently, making sure to keep that afterthought to himself. It wasn't exactly a secret that she was beautiful, he was sure anyone would agree, but voicing that opinion would surely sound like a pick-up line. And with two more hours of being confined to a small space together, such awkwardness was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

His eyes were back on the road now, and she was somewhat glad considering the uninvited rush she felt each time he turned that too-blue gaze on her, but she could still see the small smile on his face.

"And how about you, Emma Swan? What brings you to England? More specifically, why on earth did you choose Worcestershire? You do realize there's _nothing_ to do and our hotel isn't exactly a hive of activity out of season, right?"

She bit her lip and laughed lightly, turning her gaze out of the window and watching as the highway gave way to a more scenic landscape the further they got from London. She could already feel the weight of what she'd left behind in LA lifting from her shoulders.

"That's what I'm counting on," she muttered, taking off her snapback and running a hand through her hair, "I…had a lot going on back home, and I just needed to get away for a little while. I didn't want to be in London; too many people. So the countryside seemed like a good option."

Killian nodded thoughtfully, mulling over her answer. She didn't give much away, but whatever she was keeping to herself was her business. Once again, he had to remind himself that they'd _only just met_ and there was a difference between polite conversation and being nosy. So he steered the conversation back to 'polite'.

"And where is home for you? I mean I know your accent is American but-"

"Los Angeles. I'm originally from Maine, but I moved to California for college and ended up staying for…work."

There was that wavering pause again, and it was only making her more intriguing to him. But she was very clearly a private person, and he had a feeling, from the way she carefully chose her words and a certain something she had about her, that she'd been through a lot in her life. He kept those thoughts to himself, but he couldn't help being curious.

"What about you?" she asked then, clearly eager to steer to conversation away from herself, "What do you do in a place with 'nothing to do'?"

He chuckled as he glanced over at her and saw the teasing smile on her lips. He liked her sass, and he couldn't help but think of Milah.

"I pretty much do nothing. I run the hotel out of season while my brother's away, and I co-run it during high season. I'm a sailor at heart though – did my degree in Marine Engineering, but…well, life sometimes doesn't work out quite the way you plan it."

Emma shifted in her seat, murmuring her agreement, and he could feel her gaze on him. She was studying him, easily reading the flare of raw emotion that crossed his face and becoming more interested by the minute in this insanely handsome man with the come-to-bed eyes that belied a stormier, more painful story than he was giving away.

She recognized that look. It was the look of someone who had survived something many wouldn't, and it drew her to him somehow. She wouldn't deny that he was attractive – and that was putting it mildly – but it was something else about him that had her pulse quickening each time those eyes of his were boring into her own.

The conversation flowed easily then, with Killian turning to the subject of the hotel. He told her about the history of the place, about how his brother had happened upon it when it was nothing but ruins and then spent years fixing it up. He told her that out of season there was really not much going on, and she'd have most of the amenities to herself.

"If you want to book to spa, just gimme 24 hours notice and I'll get someone to come in. They're on flexible hours out of season so they only come in for pre-booked appointments, instead of being around all day when we have no guests."

He told her, and she assured him she'd be low maintenance. He had a feeling she was about to add something else, but she closed her mouth and turned to look out the window.

They'd lapsed into easy silence then for the rest of the journey, with Killian turning up the radio and allowing music to fill the silence. He was surprised how comfortable it felt to be with her without filling the void with small talk, when usually he'd have felt the need to do just that.

Emma had been somewhat enjoying simply listening to music with him, the lull of the slight twists and turns of the country roads soothing her. But as she heard the familiar opening beats of her own song, Emma's heart sank and she could feel the sudden tension in her shoulders.

Darting subtle glances at Killian, she was cautiously relieved to see he looked completely oblivious, head absently nodding along to the beat but seemingly unaware of the fact that the singer on the radio was actually sat right next to him.

As her song ended, Emma felt the urge to quickly reach over and switch channels, just in case her secret was given away, but she saw him move to do just that, and she bit her lip, wondering if she'd gotten lucky. But as his finger hovered over the button, the DJ's overly enthusiastic voice caught his attention and she held her breath.

"_And that was Choose Your Battles from Emma Swan, hanging in there at number one for the eighth consecutive week-"_

Killian blinked in surprise and he pulled his hand back as though he'd been burned. Suddenly, it all made sense. Her cageyness and the way she carefully chose her words, not giving much away; the way her voice had sounded familiar on the phone, and how he'd been so sure he knew her face when he'd first caught sight of her.

Quickly schooling his expression into a mask of nonchalance, he switched off the radio and leaned back in his seat, eyes on the road in front of him as he decided to forget what he'd just heard. In his peripheral vision, he could see her knotting her hands in her lap, head bowed to avoid his eyes contact should he turn his head toward her.

She clearly hadn't planned on making her status known to him, unless she'd assumed he knew who she was and that he was just indifferent about it all. Whatever the reason, he decided he wouldn't mention it if she didn't. After all, she was entitled to her privacy, though he was sure that the little privacy she was afforded was somewhat of a luxury. And she was clearly trying to escape something – or _someone_ – if she'd chosen to flee to Worcester, of all places.

"I know it's pretty late now, but if you want some food or a drink or whatever, I can open the bar. And besides, you _did _say you owed me drink."

Killian was thankful his voice sounded much more unaffected and lighter than he felt as he finally pulled into the pebbled driveway of the hotel. The last ten minutes of the journey had felt longer than the two hours preceding it, with Emma keeping her head turned to watch out of the window and Killian wishing he was still blissfully ignorant as to who she really was.

The tension that had settled between them since he'd turned the radio off was broken by his words and she turned to meet his gaze as he pulled up and shut off the engine.

She studied him for long seconds and he offered her a small smile, hoping she could read in his eyes that he didn't _care_ what he'd just accidentally heard on the radio, he wasn't going to treat her any differently than he had been doing thus far. They'd been getting on so well before that revelation, and he didn't want her to shut down now because her 'secret' was out.

She seemed to like whatever she did see in his eyes because her shoulders finally relaxed and she smiled back at him.

"Thank you."

She said pointedly, her gaze locked on his, and he knew she was thanking him for more than just the offer of opening the bar. He nodded in understanding, climbing out of the car and moving to get her case out of the trunk.

She followed him up the entrance steps and into the beautiful lobby area that had always been one of Killian's favorite features of the hotel. He rounded the reception desk, taking down the absence note he'd left that afternoon, and quickly pulled up her reservation on the computer to confirm her arrival.

Grabbing the key for her suite, he moved back around the reception desk to pick up her suitcase once more, motioning for her to follow him.

"I've put you in the Lavender Suite. It's overlooking the courtyard and I think you'll like it."

Emma followed him down the hallways, taking in the very impressive décor as she went and once he'd placed her luggage down inside the doorway of her suite, handing her the key on the way in and telling her just to call down to the reception desk if she needed anything, he turned to leave.

She quickly placed her hand on his arm to stop him and he paused before turning back to face her.

"Killian, I want to thank you. For everything," she smiled, holding his eye contact unwaveringly, "you didn't have to drive all the way down to London the way you did, but I appreciate that you went out of your way to help me. And…I also appreciate you treating me like an actual person. That means a lot to me."

She surprised both of them then by reaching up and gently kissing his cheek. She saw his eyes darken instantly as she invaded his personal space and stepped back, her heart stuttering. It had been a long time since her body reacted so keenly to someone and it startled her a little.

He stared at her for a moment before seemingly snapping out of his thoughts and smiling as he made for the door again, this time without her stopping him. He could feel every nerve ending in his body buzzing with the electricity of her touch and he needed to retreat to gather his thoughts.

It had been four years, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to be suddenly feeling such a rush of adrenaline from simply being close to someone. The smell of her shampoo – or maybe it was her perfume – was intoxicating and he'd fought the urge to inhale her scent as she'd leaned in to kiss his cheek. That instinctive pull he'd felt toward her from the moment they'd met just a few hours previous was unnerving and he wasn't quite sure what to think of it.

"If you open the bar, I'll meet you for a drink in thirty. I owe you one."

He heard her call out as he started down the hallway. Looking over his shoulder, he saw her leaning against the doorframe and grinned, nodding succinctly before she disappeared inside and he was left reeling as he made his way back to the front desk.


	6. Chapter 6

Totally overdue some drama. And I need you to feel my feels.  
Warning: if you like Neal, you probably won't like this chapter.

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"Do you like your life?"

Killian asked as he sat down beside Emma in the dimly lit, stone-and-leather bar-restaurant. It was designed with the feel of a traditional British pub, but with a modern designer twist. The leather-padded bar was on one side, the restaurant area on the other, and Emma had admired the interior design work as she'd walked in. The oak laminate floor and original feature limestone walls boasting tasteful countryside art scenes worked impressively well together.

After he'd shown her to her room, she'd called Mary Margaret to let her know she was okay, though she decided to leave out the fact that the owner of the hotel she was staying at had driven across the country to pick her up and was also perhaps one of the most attractive men she'd ever laid eyes on.

Then, she took a quick shower and changed into black leggings and an oversized USC t-shirt. She was sure Killian wouldn't mind if she didn't dress up for their rendezvous in the bar. It was ten thirty and she'd been travelling for the best part of twenty-four hours, after all.

Swirling her drink – some fruity cocktail he'd put together for her with a cheeky grin and a 'trust me!' – she sighed softly and lifted her gaze to meet his. They were alone in the bar and she absently wondered if he got lonely with no one around.

"Wow, starting off with the big questions, huh?"

She smiled ruefully, pausing to take a drink in a bid to come up with an answer that wouldn't sound awfully self-pitying. To be quite honest, she hadn't asked herself if she liked her life before. As a child, the answer would have been a decidedly big 'no', but her teenage years had been so full of love and happiness. And now? Well, she really wasn't so sure.

"This lifestyle…has its perks, I guess."

She finally said, leaning her elbows on the bar and stirring her drink absently with the tiny umbrella he'd added to it. She could feel his eyes trained on her but it took her a few moments to turn and meet the intense gaze that sent shivers up her spine so easily.

"That's a safe answer, if I've ever heard one."

He replied, his voice soft, gently pushing her but not too much. He'd already gathered that she didn't open up easily, and that made him curious about the woman behind the beautiful eyes and Hollywood smile. She'd perfected the art of the fake smile, he could tell, but so had he and he could see straight through it were most would be fooled.

Emma chewed on her bottom lip as she allowed her gaze to lock on his.

"I didn't chase it. My career, I mean. My major was Criminal Justice at college, not Theater or any of the Performance Arts. I'd never done anything remotely theater-based, so this wasn't something I'd 'wanted all my life' like so many others. It just…happened. I auditioned for one college talent show, on a whim, and then everything just spun out of control from there. And I'm grateful for how lucky I am in a lot of ways, don't get me wrong, but…maybe if I had the opportunity to go back in time, my life could be different now."

He stayed quiet; baby blues filled with a silent understanding she could so easily read as the weight of her confession sat between them. It made her wonder what _he'd_ been through, because most people would assume her life was all sunshine and rainbows, but he'd seen straight through the façade she knew she wore well.

"So, if you want a real answer," she added, breaking eye contact, "I guess I don't really like my life. At least not where it was at when I left. And that probably makes me sound incredibly selfish."

He shifted his seat marginally closer to her and tentatively placed a hand over her arm, his thumb stroking comfortingly against her pulse, which quickened at his touch. She wondered if he noticed.

"It doesn't," he answered softly when she met his gaze, "I get it. When you're not prepared for something life-changing like that, it can really do a number on you."

She frowned a little, searching his eyes for that unreadable something she'd seen earlier.

"What happened to you?"

She asked simply, her voice barely above a whisper yet still sounding obscenely loud to her own ears in the empty bar. His thumb stilled over her wrist as a storm raged in his heart. He hadn't talked about Milah in years – he'd thought about her, of course, but he kept the thoughts to himself – and the stirring of old memories made him swallow hard.

"I…lost someone. My fiancée. She died."

His voice was strained as the words finally fell from his lips. Emma squeezed his hand that rested on her arm then, offering a soft condolence and apologizing for pushing him into opening up. He shook his head.

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago. I just haven't talked about her for a while. She was…she was an amazing woman. We went to university together – she was one of the few girls on my Marine Engineering course and I was crazy about her from the very first day," he smiled sadly as he remembered the first time he'd seen her across the gym at orientation, "We got together in the second semester of first year and when we graduated we moved down to the coast, bought a house together and got engaged…then she was in a fatal car accident. I…" he swallowed thickly, "I watched her slip away in the middle of a car wreck on a Tuesday night."

Emma felt her heart tug at his words and she intertwined her fingers with his, choked and sure she would never have enough words to ease the ache that he was surely feeling as he spoke of the love he'd lost so brutally.

She felt a surge of guilt for the fact that just a few minutes before she'd been woeful in telling him of her situation. They sat silently then for long moments, taking comfort from each other's simple presence. It had been a long time since either of them had opened up to anyone, and neither knew why they felt so inclined to do so with a perfect stranger.

"I know we only met today, Emma, so I'm sorry for burdening you with all of that. I don't really know why I-"

She shook her head firmly, fixing him with a stern look.

"Don't you dare apologize, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for. She was lucky, your fiancée, to have a guy like you. I know we just met, but I'm good at reading people. And you, Killian Jones, are something special."

She smiled as she saw the small smile lifting his lips, the sparkle returning to his eyes. It took her breath away again, just the way it had the first time she'd looked up into those eyes earlier that evening. Had it really only been a few hours?

She felt like she'd known this man for years, and it was such a strange, rare occurrence for her to feel that way about someone. She was usually very wary, because so many people she met had agendas and were bubbling with such false genuineness, eager to 'know' her for her status rather than to _really_ know her.

This man was so very different. She wondered if she'd warmed to him so quickly because of his initial reaction to finding out who she was, or because of this strange connection she'd felt so instantaneously with him. It was unnerving and thrilling, both at the same time.

"Oh, and I promised you a drink too, so…" she slipped down from her chair, ignoring the way she felt the loss of his touch keenly, and moved to the other side of the bar, leaning over to him with a smile, "what can I get you?"

* * *

CS

* * *

They stayed up talking late into the night, the topics of conversation turning much lighter and resulting in Emma doubled over laughing at his stories. They'd moved to one of the more comfortable lounge areas and Emma had kicked off her shoes, her legs curled under her and they chatted easily. They talked about their favorite sports, the times they'd gotten so drunk they'd had to be carried home by friends, and their childhood memories.

Granted, Emma had glossed over the more traumatic details of her childhood in favor of the funny stories from Christmases in a group home and the time she'd covered Mary Margaret's bedroom doorway in plastic wrap and then screamed her name loudly from the end of the hallway so that she came running out in a panic.

They'd talked about disastrous dating experiences (she'd chosen to _not_ talk about Neal, because that was one person she really didn't want to think about for just one night) and protective older siblings, tragic fashion choices in their early teen years and awkward sexual encounters. They opened up to each other in ways that surprised them both. Neither had ever felt so totally at ease as they did with each other.

When Killian noticed the time on the big Grandfather clock that happened to be a focal feature in the lounge they'd relocated to, he gave a start.

"Well, Ms. Swan, it's gone 3am," he saw her eyes widen as she followed his gaze to the clock, "I'm assuming after a long-haul flight that it's more jetlag that's keeping you awake as opposed to my endlessly entertaining stories."

She laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, I think it might be both. Probably seventy-thirty in jetlag's favor though."

She sighed playfully and smirked as he threw her a dramatically wounded expression, his hand pressed to his chest. She uncurled her legs and pushed herself to standing. Killian followed suit, leading the way back out toward the front of the hotel and turning to face her when they reached the lobby.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Emma. I haven't laughed like that in…well, years."

He smiled warmly at her, and she could see that it reached his eyes. She returned it in kind and took a step closer to him; her heart stuttering slightly as he took a step closer at the exact same time and they ended up much closer than either had planned.

They both laughed somewhat awkwardly before Killian put a little more space back between them and reached for her hand. She felt the blush rise on her cheeks as he brought it up to his lips and brushed his lips over her knuckles, holding her eye contact as he did so.

Her stomach flipped and she smiled shyly, her inner voice chastising her for the teenage girl reaction her body seemed to keep having every time he touched her in any way. She'd kissed his cheek earlier, so why was this innocent action from him starting a fire in her belly?

"I…had a great night too. And thank you for everything again. I'll see you at breakfast?"

He nodded and she smiled again, backing up with a duck of her head when he let go of her hand.

"Goodnight, Emma."

He said, the softness in his voice doing crazy things to her already quickened pulse. As she turned to walk down the hallway to her room, she stopped and looked back at him.

"I'm glad I met you, Killian. Goodnight."

With that, she made her way to her room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it with a dreamy smile on her face. She hadn't felt so light or carefree in a long time, and she really wished she could hold onto that feeling. She knew she'd have to face the real world eventually, but she was grateful he'd taken her mind of it all so easily, even just for one night.

Slipping her shirt over her head and shimmying off her leggings, she hurriedly changed into her pyjama shorts and tank top, intent on getting to sleep as quickly as possible, sure that she'd finally get a restful sleep for the first time in a while.

She promptly drifted off into an easy sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. So, when her phone vibrating loudly on the bedside table startled her out of a deep sleep a little while later, she snatched it up, instinctively pressing the button to answer the call without checking the caller ID first.

"Hello?"

She answered, sleep still fogging her mind.

"Emma? Where the fuck are you? I've been trying to call all day!"

Neal's angry voice chased away the sleep haze immediately and she sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. She had the urge to just hang up and turn her phone off, but she knew she had to talk to him sooner or later, otherwise he'd hunt down Mary Margaret and she couldn't expect her sister to take the brunt of his frustration. This was her mess, not Mary Margaret's.

"I'm…I…we're over. This…thing, whatever it was between us, it wasn't a relationship. So I'm done. With you."

She said breathlessly, her hands shaking. She hadn't sat down and thought about what she'd say to him, so her words were uncoordinated. She'd been so busy trying to avoid thinking of him and the fallout that would come from their break-up that she had no idea what to say to him now.

There was no reply on the other end of the line for painfully long seconds before his scornful laugh broke the silence. She gave a start, surprised by his response. She half expected excuses for his lack of involvement in their 'relationship', or whining, or perhaps overly dramatic pleading with her to 'see sense' and go home to 'talk about it'. She hadn't expected him to laugh.

"Emma, you're not leaving me," he sighed, as though he was talking to a child, "I'm your fucking manager, not just some guy from the band you can simply replace. I _made_ you. Don't you remember how pathetically wide-eyed and clingy you were three years ago? Without me, this town would have eaten you alive. So stop being such a fucking princess and get back home."

Emma was breathing hard and trembling harder. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks and she fought to hold onto her composure. She would _not_ let him hear her cry. He'd never spoken to her that way before, and if she hadn't been on the opposite side of the world, it would have scared her. Maybe even enough to go home.

"I'm not coming home. Didn't you hear what I said? We're _over_. I don't care that you're my manager; I don't care if you ruin my career. I want to be happy, and I never will be with you."

He scoffed and she could practically feel him rolling his eyes. Her tears turned angry then, and she was struggling to remember what she'd ever seen in him.

"Oh, you're _unhappy_? Really? You're a goddamn adult, Emma. Deal with it. If you're not home by-"

"I'm not coming home. Goodbye, Neal."

She quickly hung up and wiped her tears away. If he wanted her to act like an adult, then she'd use some grown-up tactics, and he wasn't going to like it. She knew one sure-fire way to keep him busy for a few days, which would give her time to clear her head and come up with a plan. Still shaking with shock and anger, she typed a text to Mary Margaret.

_I need you to leak mine and Neal's breakup to the media asap.  
No details, just be that good old 'reliable source'.  
Will explain tomorrow x_


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, this one got angst-fluffy because my muse was inspired after reading poetry!  
These things happen and I do not control my muse, my muse controls me.  
PS: Reviews are my drugs. Please be my dealer!

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Killian had watched Emma retreat to her room before setting up the few tables in the restaurant required for breakfast and finally making it back to his own room to catch a few hours sleep before the sun came up. He knew he was probably going to be walking round like a zombie for most of the next day, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay for the perfect evening he'd spent with Emma.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he still had a smile on his face. He couldn't explain it, and he wasn't sure he'd even want to, but she was intoxicating. The walls he'd built around his heart four years before were beginning to waver; he could practically feel the foundations crumbling. Just being near her made him feel like maybe, just maybe, his heart might be starting to beat again.

It was a sensation he'd long since lost hope of ever feeling again, but there was something about Emma Swan, a broken soul hidden behind beautiful eyes and a smile that made his heart flutter, that made him want to believe in new beginnings.

He'd been a patchwork of darkness in the night sky that was missing its stars, and suddenly this woman, this supernova starlet, crashed into his orbit and scattered stardust everywhere, momentarily blinding him in a light that had long since been snuffed out in his world.

As he closed his eyes, for the very first time he saw a face that wasn't Milah's. And even though a momentary panic set in with that fact, the peace that followed was overwhelming. He saw Emma's golden curls, a set of twinkling green eyes filled with laughter.

He saw that smile of hers that lit up the entire room – and his entire world – when she laughed, with the adorable scrunch of her nose that accompanied it, and the fine laughter lines around her eyes. The melody of her laugh resounded in his mind and he was sure that no song ever composed could sound so good to his ears.

He realized, with only the smallest taste of bittersweet on his tongue, that Emma had walked into his life the exact same month of the year that Milah had. September.

So maybe Septembers could be a good thing again now, like they once had been.

He was alone in his room, yet he felt so infinitely close to her. This Swan girl would ruin him, he was sure, in every beautiful way possible. He'd known her for less than twenty-four hours, but he was already falling hard.

* * *

CS

* * *

Emma didn't sleep at all, no matter how much she tried. Neal's voice, his scathing words and vicious tone, kept playing on loop until she gave up and threw the covers off of her, stalking over to the balcony doors that opened out onto a small private deck overlooking the courtyard.

The sun had risen a little while earlier, but everything was so perfectly still that she could easily imagine someone had pressed pause on the world. And how she so wished they could.

She shivered as she stepped outside, the cool morning air chilling her to the bone with a pleasant numbing effect. She had a feeling that it was more to do with the lack of sleep and how emotionally drained she felt, rather than the fresh breeze ghosting over her skin.

She sat down wearily at the small glass table and stared vacantly out across the courtyard, simply allowing her mind to drift and focus on nothing in particular. She just wanted Neal out of her head, and knew that as soon as he was, the heaviness in her heart would lift.

The night before, sitting and talking all night with Killian, Emma had felt happier than she had in a long time. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but being with him felt so effortless. He made her laugh, and seemed to sense that her emotional baggage was possibly as heavy as his own. And that hadn't seemed to faze him in the slightest.

Not only that, but he treated her like an actual person, rather than some kind of living doll. She was inexplicably drawn to him, and she knew it was more than his dashing good looks that had her heart stuttering every time their eyes met. The flurry of butterflies taking flight in her stomach when they touched, no matter how innocent the intention, made shivers run the length of her body.

She'd been looking forward to seeing him at breakfast, but that was before Neal's phone-call. Now, all she wanted was to stay locked in her room, more afraid than ever that word of her location would get back to him. She knew her secret was safe with Mary Margaret and David, but she couldn't very well hide out in the English countryside forever.

Especially considering the fact that she knew her tattered personal life would be all over the front pages of every magazine in LA (and probably a lot of the British ones too) by mid-afternoon English time. Tears of frustration slid down her cheeks. She was angry that Neal could upset her so much even when she'd put over five thousand miles between them.

She wasn't sure how long she ended up sitting out on the deck, but after a while she heard a muffled knocking and realized it was coming from her door. As she hurried inside, she cast a quick glance at the digital clock on her bedside table. 9:30am. She'd been outside longer than she thought, but the chill on her skin had become somewhat comforting.

Pulling open the door, she wasn't all that surprised to see Killian smiling back at her. She hoped her eyes weren't too red, but perhaps she could simply blame it on allergies if he noticed.

"Morning, love. I figured after our late night, you'd maybe appreciate breakfast in your room?"

His smile was so warm that she could already feel the painful knot in her stomach loosening its grip and the icy chill on her bare skin thawing out. She forced a smile – something she was very good at after years of practice – and stepped back to allow him entry with the tray he was carrying.

"That's so nice of you, thank you. I'm pretty beat this morning."

She said, managing to keep her voice light as she followed him out to the deck where he set the tray down. He'd brought her a little bit of everything, and added a lilac flower in a milk cup as a sweet afterthought.

He turned to face her and his piercing gaze settled on her for a long moment. She shifted and chewed on her bottom lip, knowing he was reading her like an open book.

"Are you okay, Emma?" he asked quietly, "I mean, just tell me to bugger off if I'm overstepping but-"

"You're not. I'm…I'm not okay," she cut him off, surprising them both, "I got a call last night when I came to bed…from my boyfriend, who's also my manager…"

She took a deep breath, wondering how on earth she could explain to him what he was surely going to see all over magazines if he so much as stepped into a convenience store. She didn't want him to learn her secrets like that.

She caught the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly at the mention of a boyfriend and he broke eye contact briefly. He seemed to quickly compose himself and school his face into a careful mask of detachment and mild concern.

"Is everything alright?"

He asked casually, but she could hear the slight strain in his voice. She knew she should have mentioned Neal and her complicated situation to him the night before, but she'd so desperately wanted to distance herself from the mess she'd left behind in LA, just for one night.

"It will be, I hope. I broke up with him. But he's not really taking it very well and I'm…well, I'm kinda worried about what he's gonna do. Only my sister and brother-in-law know where I am, but he has a lot of connections and I know I can't run forever."

She dropped wearily onto one of the chairs on the deck, running a hand through her tangled curls. She was dragging Killian into her mess, but she knew she had no other option. She didn't want him finding it all out from some ill-informed media story that filled in the blanks with whatever salacious rumors they could summon up.

She didn't want to analyze the fact that what he thought mattered to her, or why that was. She'd become very good at detaching herself from caring about people's opinions of her over the years, because everyone had one and you could never please them all, so she wasn't entirely sure why this almost-stranger's opinion mattered to much.

Killian leaned against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving her and his concern palpable. His heart had clenched painfully when she mentioned a boyfriend, and he was mentally kicking himself. Of _course_ she had a boyfriend. She lived in Los Angeles, where being less than beautiful was the worst sin imaginable, and he was sure she'd probably had 'perfect' men lining up around the block for the chance to take her to dinner. He couldn't even imagine _bad_ looking men existing in LA. Then again, she didn't seem the type to base a relationship solely off of looks.

But as she'd continued, the envy he'd felt toward the nameless man who had been lucky enough to call Emma his own disappeared when she quickly told him she'd ended it. The unwarranted relief that washed over him became laced with concern with her words and he felt the instinctive need to keep her safe.

"He wouldn't hurt you though, would he?" the worry lines on his face deepened further when she wavered, unsure, "You can stay here for as long as you need to, Emma. I'll do my very best to protect you in whatever way I can. It's unlikely that the media will find you here, but you tell me what I can do to help, and I'll do it."

Emma gave him a small smile of thanks, not knowing how to put into words how grateful she was to him for everything he'd _already_ done. Simply making her laugh was something to thank him for, but here he was, willing to turn his life upside down for her at a moment's notice.

It surprised her too that she felt safer just knowing he was near. She had no idea how exactly he could protect her if things got messy, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would.

"I honestly don't know what he's capable of. The way he spoke to me last night…I've never heard him that angry before. He doesn't deal well with not being in control, especially when it comes to me, and I've just sat back and taken that bullshit for two years because I thought he loved me, and because I didn't know how I'd survive in LA without him," she let out a shaky sigh, "but this is my fault, for leaving the goddamn country on a whim instead of cooling down and talking it out like an adult."

She felt the familiar heaviness settling on her heart again. She'd been free of it for one evening, and she knew she was a fool to have ever hoped it could last. She stared down at her feet, wondering how the hell she could even begin to unravel the tangled mess she'd created the night she bought a plane ticket and disappeared to the opposite side of the world.

Killian stepped forward, lifting her chin with his fingers so that her eyes met his reluctantly, his thumb lightly touching the dimple in her chin. The way he looked at her, as though she made the stars shine and the birds sing, had her breath hitching in her throat and she wished she could find a way to tell him that she really didn't deserve a guy like him to be looking at her like that.

"_None _of this is your fault, love. If he didn't tell you every single day that he loved you, then he didn't deserve you. Not for a minute. If he didn't spend hours memorizing you with his fingertips, or making sure he'd kissed every inch of you, or marvelling at the fact that he was being allowed to touch heaven every time he held your hand, then you deserved better. A woman like you, Emma, should be treasured and told everyday that your eyes are the most beautiful shade of green, and that your laugh is better than the best song I've ever heard, and your smile…well, your smile looks really great on you and it's something I'd make you wear everyday if you were mine."

Emma could barely breathe, his words hanging as heavy as a confession between them. Her heart was pounding, deafening to her own ears, and her eyes were wide, locked onto his lips as he spoke and lingering there long after he'd fallen silent. The moment stretched out between them like an eternity frozen in a single breath.

She knew she was staring at him but she was paralyzed by the weight of the words ringing in her ears, her lips parted in shock and raw emotion coursing its way through every nerve in her body. She couldn't drag her gaze away from his, until he suddenly stepped back, his delicate touch against the dimple on her chin suddenly gone.

Something inside Killian had broken when she'd blamed herself for the emotional abuse that had apparently become the foundation of her relationship with her manager-boyfriend. He was clearly in a position of power and had systematically made her believe that she couldn't make it without him. Perhaps he'd even threatened her with how difficult he could make things if he really did have as many connections as she'd mentioned earlier. But just the fact that this 'man' had broken her down enough for her to even consider blaming herself for her broken heart and tattered relationship had words pouring from his mouth before he'd really thought them through.

As silence had wrapped itself around them, shock paralyzing them both, his blood ran cold. Why had he told her all those things? He'd practically told her he was in love with her, and they'd barely known each other a day. He hadn't even had time to process the idea that he might actually be falling for her, _slowly and then all at once_, before he'd told her everything.

He'd given her every poetic notion that had crossed his mind the night before as he lay in bed, his head full of the nuances of her accent, and the way she'd snorted in such an endearingly unladylike manner when he'd made her laugh so hard she had tears in her eyes, and the way she occasionally touched the ring on a chain round her neck.

He hadn't even realized his feelings for her already ran so deep until the words had tumbled from his lips.

He felt his face crumble as he stepped back, devastated that he may have blown it just as his heart was learning how to beat again thanks to her…and just as she was beginning to lean into his touch.

He wanted to find her gaze again, to make sure it was simply shock and not horror or fear that he saw in her eyes, and to give her a chance to respond, but he was turning and making for the door before he fucked things up any further.

She didn't follow him.

When she finally remembered how to breathe again, the air rushed into her lungs with a gasp but he was long gone. Processing what he'd said had her mind in overdrive, but her gaze was still fixed to where she'd watched him walk out.

And just like that, a complicated situation had spun so far out of control that it left her breathless. And wasn't that just so typical.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: Major UST ahead! Prepare your ovaries!

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Emma spent the majority of the day in her room, trying to summon up the courage to go looking for Killian and figuring out exactly what she would say when she did.

She was somewhat accustomed to strangers professing their love for her – usually they were screaming and/or crying at the same time – but there was one major difference: she had never felt an instant, electrifying connection with any of the fans she'd met in the street, or after her shows.

And despite the hundreds of thousands of fan mail letters her agency received for her each week – a fair amount of which she tried to read, even just so she felt like she was fully appreciating the diehard dedication of her fanbase – never had someone's words been wrapped up so beautifully or eloquently and given to her with such honest conviction.

And never had her heart stilled in her chest the way it did every time he touched her. From the moment they'd met, something had happened, and she was a little relieved that she wasn't the only one feeling the exhilarating rush that came with such an inexplicable connection.

By late afternoon, after busying herself with TV, washing her hair and unpacking a few of her clothes, Emma knew she needed to talk to him. She needed to clear the air, to assure him he hadn't scared her off, and to let him know that he wasn't the only one who felt something between them.

But she also needed him to realize that the timing couldn't possibly have been worse. Not only was she in the middle of a very turbulent break-up but also the world's media would be more than ready to pounce on anyone she was seen with publically, in any capacity.

She _really_ didn't want to throw him to the wolves like that because she remembered all too well how terrifying daunting she had found it when she'd first found herself in the spotlight. The fervor with which they'd pursued her and Neal when they'd first been seen out together without the façade of business to hide behind had been verging on assault. And even before they were even together, there was plenty of speculation.

There was no such thing as a platonic friend when you lived in the spotlight. If you were straight and you happened to be seen with a friend of the opposite sex, people would talk. If you were gay and dared to step out in public with a friend of the same sex, the same rumors would circulate. She'd found it terribly difficult to adjust to that reality, but she eventually had to simply accept it and not pay too much attention to gossip.

Wandering slowly down to the lobby, she caught sight of Killian slumped behind the desk, his bright eyes dancing across the screen of the computer, oblivious to the world around him.

She approached cautiously, her heart fluttering with nerves, and she felt like a teenager again. As she neared the desk, he lifted his eyes from the screen and those too-blue eyes of his stole her breath, everything she'd been preparing to say flying out of her mind. She also couldn't help but think that no amount of words could do justice in describing the color of those eyes.

She noticed how his instinctive smile had faltered and his shoulders tensed as he saw her, but she tried not to let that hurt too much. It was her own fault for hiding in her room all day and unintentionally making him sweat.

"Killian…" she started, her voice way breathier than she'd anticipated and she saw his eyes darken slightly, "we need to talk."

He grimaced then, a tight smile on his lips.

"I've found that when someone says that, I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation."

She smiled weakly, her gaze pleading. She didn't want him to distance himself the way he was so obviously doing. Not that she could blame him. She waited silently and after a few moments he sighed, rounding the desk and canting his head in the direction of the bar.

"I think I'm gonna need some rum first, love. Care to join?"

She nodded quickly, following him across the lobby and wishing more than anything that the stifled tension between them would dissipate. She knew he was expecting the "you're a really great guy, but I just want to be friends" talk and she knew he was probably going to be more than a little surprised.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Before you say anything, Emma," Killian started as he rounded the bar and busied his hands with the bottles of alcohol, "I want to apologize for cornering you the way I did. I honestly don't know where it all came from. I didn't even realize that I…felt that way. So you don't have to feel as though-"

"I like you," she cut in, and he turned to face her, eyes questioning, "I…_like _like you. I've never felt an instant connection to anyone like I have with you, and it scares me a little. I'm also in a horrible place emotionally and I've never been good at dealing with feelings, so I didn't react to what you said in the best way. So, please don't apologize, because I'm kinda relieved that this…_thing_ between us, whatever you wanna call it, isn't just in my head."

Emma chewed on her lip as silence descended, Killian staring at her the way she'd stared at him that morning. She shifted, uncomfortable, and knotted her fingers in her lap.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and he moved closer to her despite the bar between them.

"It isn't in your head. I haven't felt this drawn to someone since…"

He fell quiet for a moment and she knew what he was about to say. She was the first person who'd made him feel anything since Milah. She was the first person who'd made him believe there might be a second chance for him and that it was alright to finally let his heart beat again.

"I had such a great time last night, Emma, and I want to really get to know you," he finally said, "I just didn't want you to feel like I was coming on too strong, because honestly, what I said surprised me just as much as it surprised you."

She nodded slowly, accepting the drink he set down in front of her and raising it to toast as he poured himself a tumbler of rum.

"To getting to know each other."

She said as she gently clinked their glasses together. He smiled as their eyes met and nodded, tossing the drink back and rounding the bar to sit next to her.

"Now, this feels a little like déjà vu."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

The following two and half weeks remained surprisingly uneventful. Emma had left her cell phone turned off to make sure Neal couldn't get in touch with her again, and bought a disposable one, which she used to call Mary Margaret every other day to assure her she was still okay.

She was, however, very careful to limit how much she mentioned Killian. There was no way she was going to submit herself to one of her sister's interrogations when she really couldn't even define what she and Killian were to each other.

Nothing had happened – nothing more than a kiss on the cheek and a couple of hugs that had lasted a little longer than was really necessary – but the sizzling chemistry between them was becoming very hard to ignore.

They'd rarely spent a day apart since meeting, and even though Emma insisted that she couldn't venture out into the town, especially not if she was accompanied by such a 'devilishly handsome gentleman', they still managed to come up with creative ways to pass the time.

They'd watched almost the entire collection of movies Killian owned, and Emma had promptly fallen asleep on his shoulder during at least a third of the movies they'd watched. They'd raided the bar and had one of the chefs put together picnics for them to take down to the lake, making the most of the unseasonably warm October weather, and had then fed half of their sandwiches to swans and ducks.

Killian had taught Emma how to play golf, and she'd (tried) to teach him how to play piano on the Baby Grand in the ballroom. He'd made excuses for his poor piano skills, telling her he could out-play her on the guitar if he knew where he'd put his and she'd simply laughed.

They'd played video games and been repeatedly beaten by faceless thirteen years olds with colorful language and poor grammar; they'd lay together on the grass under a cloudless sky, making pictures out of the stars and laughing until their sides hurt.

They'd covered every possible topic of conversation, from their favorite foods (hers were mac and cheese, tacos and sweet potatoes; his were mozzarella sticks, nachos with cheese and bacon) to their favorite _Orange Is The New Black_ character (they'd argued for a solid twenty minutes over Nicky and Alex).

Emma didn't think she'd ever find someone she was comfortable enough with to share the intimate, often painful, experiences of her childhood in the system. But with Killian, the stories had fallen from her lips easily. The pain in his eyes had told her that he knew what being abandoned felt like. And when he shared his story, she'd felt tears rolling down her cheeks. He knew her by heart, and she was becoming less terrified of that fact with every day she spent with him.

One evening, when Killian returned after being out all afternoon in town taking care of the out-of-season business his brother left him in charge of, he called Emma's room from the lobby. She'd picked up the phone with a smile, ready to playfully chastise him for not simply walking down the hallway to speak to her in person.

"Swan," he'd started the moment she picked up the phone, "would you do me the honor of dressing up in something delightful and meeting me in the lobby at 8pm?"

Confused, Emma frowned, switching the phone to her other ear and perching on the bed.

"What's going on?"

He paused and she could feel his nervous tension down the line, could almost feel it swirling down the hallway to her.

"I…erm…"

She could see the image in her head of him scratching the back of his ear, the way he did every time he was nervous, but she said nothing, waiting for him to clear his voice and continue.

"I'd like to take you on a date. Will you go on a date with me, Emma Swan?"

Emma bit her lip. On one hand, her heart was fluttering at the very idea of an _official_ date, even though they'd been practically dating since the day after they'd met. But on the other hand, labeling it made her jittery.

Not only that, but they'd discussed, at length, why it would be a bad idea for them to venture outside of the hotel grounds together. And that was the very premise of a date, wasn't it? Going out to dinner and/or a movie, then walking hand-in-hand down Main Street and ignoring the stuttering of their hearts when they both became hyperaware that the night was most probably going to end in a kiss. Or maybe more, considering the sexual tension that had been growing between them for weeks.

"Killian…"

She started, her voice faltering.

"Trust me."

He said gently, and she wasn't in the least bit surprised to realize that she _did_ trust him. Completely.

"Fine. Okay…I'll go on a date with you."

She said quietly, feeling like a fifteen year old about to go on her first date. Except, when she was fifteen she'd been suspended from school for breaking a junior's nose after he'd grabbed her ass in the school hallway…so she didn't have many dates in high school after that.

"Great! I'll, erm…see you at eight in the lobby then, Swan."

She tried to play down the sudden nervous excitement that bubbled up inside her as they hung up, and began dissecting her closet for something to wear.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Killian sat anxiously in the lobby at ten before eight, sure that if he paced his room any longer that he'd have to start replacing the hardwood floor he'd worn out. So he'd slowly made his way to the lobby, his legs bouncing with nervous energy and his eyes repeatedly darting to the hallway that led to Emma's room.

He couldn't shake the tiny niggling of doubt that she'd change her mind and simply not show up. It was all well and good hanging out all day and staying up talking late each night together when there was nothing defining it. But after almost three weeks, he wanted to remind her that his feelings for her, however surprising they were, hadn't changed. After a day together, she was in his head, and after three weeks she was quite firmly in his heart.

Hearing the turning of a lock and the quick opening and shutting of a door, Killian's heart skipped a beat and he stood up, swallowing hard as he waited for her to appear.

When she did, he was sure his heart had stopped. She smiled somewhat shyly as she approached, but he'd lost the ability to speak. She was a _goddess_. Dressed in a tight, sleeveless, mid-thigh length red dress and black heels, with her long blonde hair curled to perfection and slightly more makeup than she usually wore, Emma was leaving him speechless.

He'd previously found it so easy to see past the glamorous, idolized pin-up the magazines all depicted her as. And he'd even been able to overlook the fact that she'd appeared toward the top of numerous 'world's sexiest women' lists since she'd stumbled onto the Hollywood scene. But right now, with her standing before him in her simple yet incredibly sexy, figure-flaunting dress, he was struggling.

"_This girl could literally have any guy in the world, and she's here with me."_

He thought, scratching the back of his ear as he tried to compose himself; fighting the urge to openly stare at her legs, which looked phenomenal in the heels she wore. Clearing his throat, he finally regained the ability to speak, and he could see from her small smile that she'd noticed how affected he was at the sight of her.

"You…wow. You look…wow. I mean…you look beautiful. Incredible, even."

He grimaced, aware that he was stumbling over his words and feeling the color rising on his cheeks. She suppressed a laugh, which he appreciated, and thanked him graciously.

"You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr. Jones."

She openly appraised him and he was acutely aware of the sudden confidence shift between them. He was wearing dark grey slacks, which he knew made his legs look pretty damn brilliant, coupled with a grey-pinstripe shirt and a dark grey waistcoat over the top. His top two buttons were left open, and he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding whether to go with one or two buttons. She seemed to be appreciating his choice.

Having Emma Swan looking him up and down with a dark gaze while biting her lip had his blood rushing south, so he quickly stepped toward her and noted how her breath visibly hitched at his sudden proximity. It was comforting to see that he affected her just as much as she was affecting him.

"I can't take you out to a restaurant the way I'd like to. But, if you follow me…"

He held out his hand for her and she took it with a smile, marveling at the way her body responded so keenly to even a simply touch from him, and she couldn't help her mind from taking it further.

"_Sex with him is gonna be out of this world. It'll probably class as a spiritual experience."_

She mused, and quickly banished such thoughts from her head, knowing that she'd have to cross her legs for some desperately needed friction if she let her mind go down that path.

He led the way down the main hallway, turning toward the ballroom that wasn't used out-of-season and so remained empty save for the Baby Grand piano and chairs stacked off to the side. She wondered what on earth he could have waiting for them in an empty ballroom, but her noisy thoughts were silenced as he held the door for her and she stepped inside.

There, in the center of the room, was a small, round table covered with a simple white tablecloth, set for two people. There were candles of all shapes and sizes around the room, and the lights were turned down low. There were numerous dishes on the table, the main two covered with silver cloches, and a red carpet leading from the doorway where she stood, right up to the table.

Swallowing the lump that immediately wedged in her throat, she turned to meet Killian's gaze, tears filling her eyes. He smiled shyly at her and she was overcome with emotion.

"Killian, this is…I don't know what to say," she choked out, her fingers pressing against her lips, "I can't believe you did all this for me."

He tugged at his ear and simply smiled back, leading her over to the table and pulling out a chair for her. When she thanked him and sat down, he lifted the silver cloche in front of her, to reveal a bowl of mac and cheese.

She burst out laughing, the tears in her eyes at odds with the laughter bubbling from her lips. She watched then as he lifted the covers on the other dishes. Sweet potatoes and tacos.

"This is definitely the best date I've ever been on," she said softly as he sat down opposite her, "No one has _ever_ done anything like this for me before."

He smiled and shook his head.

"Well, that makes me sorely disappointed in my species. But I'll try to make that up to you tonight."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

After dinner, which was filled with easy conversation and the almost-awkward moment when she'd accidentally brushed his leg with her bare foot, they'd ventured out into the garden with a bottle of wine and a blanket, the way they had done a handful of times in the previous two weeks.

It felt different this time though, because they could both feel the electric tension and the fire between them that had been on a slow burn right from the day they'd met. And they were on a _date_.

As they strolled outside, Killian intertwined his fingers with hers as casually as he could, ignoring the way his heart jumped when she squeezed his hand gently. Turning his head to meet her gaze, the smile on her face sent a surge of desire right through him and all he wanted to do in that moment was kiss her.

Fighting the urge to do so, as he had done numerous times in the previous weeks, he led her over to the patch of grass they usually occupied and lay the blanket down. She sat down gracefully, which he had to give her credit for considering how tight her dress was, and he quickly joined her.

He tipped his head back then, a smile on his face as he followed the invisible lines connecting the stars, and felt her shift closer, the warmth of her body now pressing ever so slightly into his side.

After taking a moment to compose himself and attempt to slow his heart before it burst right out of his chest, he turned to face Emma, who was gazing at him unwaveringly, the smile on her lips that had been there all evening.

As they moved even closer to one another, the sparks between them were almost visible and he lifted one trembling hand to gently push her hair back off her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek.

Emma's heart was beating so loudly that she was convinced he could hear it. The electricity of his touch and the way his fingers grazed her cheek so tenderly, as though he was touching the most delicate porcelain ever made, sent shivers down her spine. She'd never felt as wanted as he made her feel, and his touch was addictive. She knew then that they were probably, definitely, going to end up in the same bed that night.

"Emma…" he whispered, his tongue darting out across his lips and making her tremble with desire, "I'd like to kiss you now, if that's okay with you?"

She could feel the fire burning white hot in her belly and it was all she could do to stop herself from crashing her lips to his in a heated, desperate kiss that was long overdue. But seeing his pupils blown, blue eyes now almost black, froze her perfectly still and she swallowed hard.

"I wish you would."

She whispered, and he began to close the space between them slowly, his hand sliding into her hair. But as her eyes fluttered closed, her whole body anticipating the touch of his lips to hers, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them caused them to jolt away from each other and turn to face whoever had interrupted their long-awaited kiss.

"Liam!"

Killian exclaimed hoarsely, and he could see the shock he felt reflected back at him in his brother's face. In the four years he'd lived at the hotel, Killian had never shown so much as a passing interest in any woman, and Liam had tried to gently encourage him to get back into the dating game. He'd firmly refused, adamant that he didn't want to ever risk having his heart ripped out again, because he wasn't sure he could survive it a second time.

And now, three weeks after Liam and his girlfriend, Jane, had set off on their annual European cruise, he'd returned to find his little brother looking very cozy in the garden with a petite blonde. It had surprised him to say the least.

But nothing could have prepared him for the further shock of having that petite blonde hurriedly jump up and offer him her hand…to find that hand belonged to a face he'd recognize anywhere after seeing her recent break-up and the big question of her location plastered over every magazine he'd seen that month.

"You're…"

"Emma Swan. Hi…I, erm, guess you're Killian's brother? Nice to meet you."

She ducked her head as he stared at her in open-mouthed shock, obviously embarrassed at being caught in the position they were in, but also marginally uncomfortable with the way Liam was staring.

Killian jumped up and punched his brother in the arm then, glaring in a silent demand to stop gawping at his date. Liam immediately snapped out of his trance and shook her hand firmly; his eyes turning to find his brother's, a thousand questions communicated in silence.

She knew that look, had shared the same one with Mary Margaret many times, and she knew that would be her best opportunity to escape. Removing her hand gently from Liam's grasp, she turned to Killian and offered him a small smile, with a pointed look that said 'to be continued' and clearly told him that he owed her one hell of a kiss to make up for the interruption.

"Thank you for tonight. I guess I'll see you in the morning…" she reached up and kissed his cheek quickly, "Goodnight."

And with that, she made her way back to her room as quickly as she could. She didn't look back, knowing that Liam had probably launched into an interrogation the way Mary Margaret would the second she was out of earshot.

Once back in her room, Emma closed the door and leaned against it, a long sigh passing her lips and a mixture of disappointment and frustration coursing through her. Pushing off of the door, she made her way toward her bed, tossing her shoes onto one of the chairs and shimmying out of her dress.

As she crawled into bed, she absently wondered if it would be considered inappropriate of her to drag him into her room before breakfast and kiss him senseless. She was wound up tight, the unfulfilled desire rippling through her and making her groan with frustration. She'd never been so equally turned on and annoyed in all her life.


	9. Chapter 9

I hope you guys are enjoying this fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it!  
I've started to post it over on AO3 now as well.  
This chapter is maybe a little more angsty, but next chapter will kick off with some good ole' comedy.  
And also, please don't hate Liam _too_ much. He's just being an overprotective big brother ;)  
Enjoy!

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

"Liam, what the fuck?"

The moment Emma disappeared inside, Killian punched his brother in the arm for a second time. His heart was still racing from the dizzying proximity of Emma seconds before his brother ruined the moment they'd been building up to for almost three weeks. The crippling disappointment that had rushed through him when the moment was broken had quickly turned into anger toward his brother.

"Sorry! I didn't exactly expect you to be harboring a celebrity fugitive when I got back. And I _certainly _never thought for a second that you'd be in the middle of a make-out session with anyone, let alone..._her_. Jesus Christ, Killian, what are you thinking?"

Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his head full of questions. Admittedly, he was protective of his little brother, and he was slightly affronted by the fact that Killian had completely failed to mention the fact that a famous popstar was staying at _his_ hotel while he was away, never mind that he'd apparently become _involved _with said popstar too.

Killian rolled his eyes, turning away from Liam to pick up the blanket and unopened bottle of wine from the lawn, intent on storming off to his room to cool off.

"But maybe it's a good thing I interrupted you when I did," Liam said pointedly, and Killian spun around to face him in disbelief, "Have you even thought this through? You're asking for your heart to be broken, Killy. She's all over every magazine in the country right now, and how long do you think it'll be before she has no choice but to go home?"

Killian clenched his jaw, unwilling to admit that the thought had crossed his mind quite a few times over the weeks. He didn't want her to leave, but at some point she'd have to. Her home was in Los Angeles, not some hotel in the middle of England. She had a family, a career, out there. But they hadn't spoken about it, choosing instead to consciously avoid the subject.

"After four years," Liam continued, "you've chosen a girl who is almost definitely gonna break your heart. She's hot as hell, I'll give you that, but why on earth are you willingly being her rebound guy?"

"You don't even know her. And I am _not_ her rebound guy-"

"_You _don't know her either, Killian! Not really. You've known her for, what, a couple weeks? And has she, or has she not, just come out of a relationship?"

Killian's eyes were blazing and he hated the fact that he couldn't really argue with Liam's point of view. From the outside, without feeling the undeniable connection he and Emma had shared since the day they'd met, he knew it could be easy to see their affair as nothing but a disaster waiting to happen.

But he wasn't about to give up on the first woman who'd made his heart beat again in four years. He wasn't about to give up on them before they'd even _tried_. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he wasn't about to give up on her.

"You know nothing about what's going on with her. Or us. You've been encouraging me to start dating again for the last two years! And now, the second I find someone who makes me feel alive again you're trying to convince me it's a bad idea! I can't win, Liam!"

Liam took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I can see exactly how this is gonna end though. I'm looking out for you. I know you're blinded by the fact that this insanely beautiful, famous chick wants you, but look at the big picture. What happens when someone finds out where she is? What happens when some sneaky journalist snaps a picture of you two together and the media goes into a frenzy?"

Killian's lips pressed together in a thin line, deep frown lines set into his forehead as he glared back at his brother. When he didn't respond, Liam continued.

"I'll tell you what'll happen: they'll dig up anything they can find on you and they'll run with it. Everything you've spent four years getting over will be splashed all over the covers of magazines and you'll be forced to relive losing Milah all over again. Don't do that to yourself, Killian. It's not worth it just for a couple of weeks as Emma Swan's boy toy. This can only end badly, and it won't be _her_ that'll be left with a broken heart."

Killian's grip on the neck of the wine bottle tightened and he could feel every muscle in his body tensing up as he stepped closer, eyes blazing.

"Back off, Liam. I know this is your misguided way of trying to protect me, but back off. This isn't just some stupid crush and it has nothing to do with who she is. You know me well enough to know I don't care about any of that. When we met, I didn't even know who she was but I finally felt my heart suddenly start beating again, somehow. I'm aware of how cliché that sounds, but it's true," Killian dropped his gaze then, his heart stuttering, "I'm in love with her…completely and madly in love with her. I honestly don't care about your opinion of her, because I _know_ this means as much to Emma as it means to me."

With that, and before Liam could respond, Killian brushed past his brother and made for his room. He toyed with the idea of detouring to Emma's room, but their moment had well and truly gone. He needed to cool off in the quiet of his room and try not to reflect too much on his brother's long list of objections.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Good morning…"

Emma had been silently praying to see Killian at the front desk as she made her way to breakfast the next morning. Her heart sank when she saw Liam sat there, checking through the emails that had amassed in his inbox during his vacation.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she was immediately struck by just how alike the brothers were. Except this one didn't look at her as though she was the first ray of sunlight he'd seen after being in the dark for four years. This one looked at her as though she was threatening to rip a puppy's heart out right in front of him, with said puppy being Killian.

She understood why he was wary of her, but it frustrated her that he'd clearly taken whatever the media was saying at face value. Surely he had to realize there was more to her story than what the tabloids printed?

"Morning. Killian's gone out. Anything I can help you with?"

He was being professional, but Emma could easily read between the lines and she sighed.

"I can tell you don't approve of my relationship with your brother. And I get it. But regardless of what you think, I don't intend to hurt him."

The cool mask of insouciance Liam wore gave away nothing, but he had the same traitorously expressive eyes as his brother so she could quite clearly see the raging storm he was hiding.

"You may not intend to hurt him, but you will," his voice was calm but his words were loaded, "and you've known each other for all of three weeks. It's hardly a _relationship_, Ms. Swan."

She maintained her composure but she was sure he'd caught the flash of annoyance in her eyes.

"I don't expect you to understand, and I doubt anything I say will change your mind about me, but Killian is a big boy so let him make his own decisions. And I promise you, I will not break his heart."

Emma turned then and made her way to breakfast, leaving Liam brooding over her words. As much as she wished she'd had the chance to see Killian before he'd left, she was glad to have had the opportunity to speak to Liam alone. She knew Mary Margaret would have had the exact same reaction to Killian, and she couldn't blame Liam for being protective of his brother. Especially considering how much Killian had been through.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

After breakfast, Emma returned to her room. She didn't know when Killian would be back from wherever it was he'd gone, and she didn't plan on seeking out Liam again to ask. So, instead she flicked through the TV channels and wasted time on her laptop until she knew it would be a civil hour to call Mary Margaret.

She'd made the mistake once of forgetting about timezones and called in the middle of the night west coast time. Of course, Mary Margaret had panicked when she'd heard her voice, assuming something must be wrong if she was calling at 3:30am. Needless to say, she was _not_ best impressed when Emma admitted she'd simply forgotten about the time difference.

A few hours later, when Emma was sure her sister would be awake, she fumbled for her phone and switched it on. The only two numbers she had stored in the burner phone were Mary Margaret's and Killian's. She'd never needed Killian's yet, considering they'd spent every day practically glued to one another.

When the phone finally loaded up, her text message alert popped up. She had two messages. Opening up the most recent one, she smiled. It was from Killian.

_Em,  
__I've had to go into London for some boring business thing. I'll be back mid afternoon and maybe we can pick up from where we left off last night?  
__K._

After she read the message, she glanced over at the clock, impatient for him to return. She'd dreamed about kissing him when she'd finally fallen asleep the night before, and she was pretty sure the reality was going to far surpass her imagination.

Sending a quick reply telling him that she was very much looking forward to kissing him senseless, and to hurry back, she clicked back to her messages to see whom the second text was from.

And suddenly, it felt like all the air had been stolen from her lungs. An unknown number had messaged her, and panic immediately set in. Mary Margaret would _definitely _not have given Neal her burner number. But he was resourceful and the fear of seeing an unknown number on the screen was at the back of her mind every time she switched on the phone.

With shaking hands, she opened the message, and she honestly didn't know what to think.

_Hi Emma.  
Just want to know where you are and that you're okay. I've been worried.  
Graham._

She hadn't spoken to Graham since the day before she'd left LA. And even though they were friends, and spent a lot of time together seeing as he was her lead guitarist, she had to admit she hadn't really thought about how her disappearance would affect him.

She knew Graham had feelings for her. Ruby had been the first to point that out years earlier, and then later Neal had made it quite clear he didn't trust Graham around her. She'd brushed off Neal's concerns, telling him he was imagining things. But secretly, she'd started to notice the way Graham's gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, or the way he'd smile nervously if their fingers brushed when he handed her the coffee he brought to the studio for them every morning.

She'd chosen to overlook those things though, because at that time she'd only had eyes for Neal. And now, years later, she'd fallen for someone else while Graham was back home worrying about her wellbeing. Her feelings for Graham were, and always would be, completely platonic, but she felt a stab of guilt as she re-read the text, so she hit reply.

_Graham,  
I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. It wasn't exactly a planned trip. I'm guessing by now you've heard that Neal and I are over – I've avoided looking at what the magazines are saying but I'm sure there are plenty of rumors circulating, as always. I'm okay though, you don't need to worry about me; I'm being looked after. I don't know when I'll be back, but I promise you I'm fine.  
Emma._

She was careful to leave out any reference to where exactly she was. There was no use putting Graham in the firing line if Neal found out she'd been in contact with him. She was hoping by now that things would have cooled down and Neal would have realized there was no way to change her mind. Especially not with the tactics he'd attempted to use.

The moment she'd pressed send, Emma's heart sank. What if it wasn't really Graham who had sent her that message? Only Mary Margaret had her number now, and she wasn't sure if Graham had ever even met her sister.

Neal could probably have figured out that she'd reply if she believed she was speaking to Graham rather than him, and he was cunning enough to use underhand methods like that if he thought she'd take the bait. Her hands were shaking as she hit speed dial to call her sister, hoping Mary Margaret would talk her out of the panicked state she was getting herself into.

No answer.

But as she listened to the dial tone, a firm knock on her door startled her and she almost dropped the phone. She'd worked herself up into such a state of panic by this point that she simply stared at the closed door with wide eyes, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs while the phone still rang out in her hand.

A few endless seconds later she came to her senses and ended the call, striding toward the door and feeling a potent surge of relief when she peered through the peephole and saw Killian's face.

Throwing open the door, Emma was still trembling and Killian's warm smile immediately disappeared when he saw the clear distress on her face. He stepped into the room and pulled her to him without a second thought, running his fingers gently through her hair as she pressed her face into his shoulder, his other hand rubbing soothing circles against her back as he nudged the door closed behind him.

She felt her uncontrollable panic slowly dissipate in his tight embrace and she silently marvelled at the way he'd instantly been able to tell that something was wrong and had instinctively known how to comfort her without even the slightest hint as to the cause of her distress.

"Whatever it is, you don't have to worry about it now, love. You're safe here, I promise."

He murmured gently as he pressed a kiss into her hair. She melted into his arms, truly believing his words while she remained in his safe embrace. After a few long moments, she pulled back to look up at him and took a shaky breath.

"I think Neal may have gotten hold of my burner cell number. I don't know how, but I just have a feeling that it's him."

Killian looked confused and she wasn't even sure if she was making sense. She was well aware that she sounded paranoid, but really, she had every excuse to be. Neal didn't have the best reputation for handling humiliation well, and she assumed that whatever the media was saying wasn't painting him in the best light. He had a fiery temper, and the fact that he'd beat up numerous paparazzi over the years for various reasons meant that they weren't his biggest fans.

"Has he threatened you?" Killian's voice was laced with concern, "Because I swear to God, Emma, if he _has_ tracked you down, I'll beat the living shit out of him if he even dares to look at you wrong. I don't generally resort to violence, but anyone who puts fear into your eyes the way he does deserves everything he gets."

Emma's heart echoed with his words. This man, so very different from the man she was running from, would do anything to keep her safe and protect her heart and her happiness.

"He hasn't threatened me. I don't even know whether it's him…I'm probably just being paranoid," at his confused expression, she explained, "I had a message from my guitarist. He's a friend, but I don't really know how he'd have gotten the number. Only my sister has it and as far as I'm aware, they've never even met. His message was just a simple 'let me know where you are and that you're okay', which could genuinely have been from him…but as soon as I replied I just got this sinking feeling that it was Neal playing me. He knows I wouldn't reply to him…but I would reply if I thought I was speaking to Graham."

Killian seemed to be turning her words over in his head and remained quiet for a few moments. She swore she could almost _see_ the gears in his head rotating.

"You didn't mention where you are though, did you?"

She shook her head firmly. She was still berating herself for replying at all before she'd spoken to Mary Margaret and found out whether Graham did, in fact, have her burner number somehow.

"Well," Killian continued, "if Neal does have this number, I'm not convinced he'd be able to find you with just a cell phone number to go on."

"It's a British number, though," she sighed, "He'd figure that one out pretty quickly."

Killian smiled and reached forward, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and letting his fingers linger against her cheek.

"Emma, England might not be anywhere near as huge as America, but I assure you, even if he does figure out you're in this country, he'll have one hell of a job tracking you down up here. We're in the middle of the countryside – good luck to him navigating the roads around here without local knowledge. You're _safe_, I promise. And I'm here to protect you anyway."

He smiled again and she felt the weight beginning to lift off of her shoulders. He was right, of course. Even if Neal did figure out she was in England, he'd had a difficult enough time navigating around London the last time they'd travelled together, let alone taking on the winding country roads. Her hands had stopped trembling by now and she was a little in awe of how easily he could talk her down. Usually it was only Mary Margaret who had the ability to be her voice of reason when she was whipped up into a panicked state, but Killian had proven himself more than capable of soothing her with his words and gentle touches.

"But I have an idea," he suddenly said, and she saw the gears turning again, "How about we move you rooms so that you're right next door to me? That way, if he does get in touch with you or you're freaking out about anything, I'm right beside you if you need me."

Emma looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she reached out and slowly traced the high v-neck of his t-shirt with her fingers, watching the way his eyes darkened when she gently grazed his collarbone with her nails.

"Is this your way of getting me closer to your bed, Mr. Jones?"

She teased in a low tone, eyes sparkling with amusement as the last coil of tension eased out of her shoulders. She could quite clearly see how affected he was by her words and he swallowed hard.

"Well, I didn't have an ulterior motive until right now."

He replied, barely above a whisper, his voice much lower now and thick with the sudden desire she'd stoked so easily. She laughed softly and stepped back, noting the flash of disappointment in his eyes as she broke contact. If she kissed him now, in the middle of her bedroom with her bed just meters away, she knew for sure that they wouldn't leave the room for the rest of the night.

"I'll pack all of my things now then, shall I?"

She moved toward the closet and began folding the few clothes she'd hung up over her arm and placing them neatly on the bed. He muttered an affirmation and helped her move everything to her case. It was a relatively quick process, because most of her things she'd left folded in her suitcase anyway, so it wasn't long before Killian disappeared to swap the room keys in the lobby and returned with a smile and a cant of his head down the hallway. He bowed grandly and she rolled her eyes despite the grin she wore.

"Your new room awaits, my princess."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"It's not in the basement, it just goes down into the natural slope of the hill that the hotel is built on," he explained, "You get to my room from the outside. It's kinda like a Granny flat attached to the hotel as an afterthought, but your room shares a deck and a private courtyard with my room. Maybe we could…have dinner on the deck tonight? Sort of like a do-over for last night. Liam and Jane are visiting friends in the next town too, so we'll have no interruptions this time. Whaddaya think?"

He said nonchalantly as they headed down a hallway and he stopped at the top of the steps leading down to her room. She smiled and nodded, feeling a flush of warmth surge through her when his face lit up.

She watched then as he stepped backward, fumbling in his pocket for the room key, and suddenly he lost his footing. Before Emma could even shout his name, Killian was thundering, head first and with a curse of surprise, down the handful of steep steps and landing in a heap at the bottom.

"_Wow, this idiot is where I chose to place my affections? This is my life now. These are my choices."_

She thought sarcastically with a small smile and a shake of her head. She stepped forward then and her first instinct was to laugh because his tumble had been reminiscent of the epic fails from America's Funniest Home Videos. But the laughter died on her lips when she saw the clear expression of pain on his face as he sat, shocked, on the floor.

She rushed down to him, noticing the way he cradled his left arm and wheezed when he moved to sit on the bottom step to catch his breath. All trace of amusement was gone and she crouched down beside him, reaching forward to touch his arm. He shied away from her touch.

"I wouldn't do that, love," he ground out, gritting his teeth in pain, "It's…uh…definitely broken."

Emma's eyes widened and her gaze shot up to meet his in alarm. She could see his forearm appeared to be at an odd angle, but he was shielding most of it from her. When he shifted, she gasped.

"Is that…is that your _bone_?!"

She cried, her hand flying to her mouth, and he winced as he nodded. She stood up quickly, hurriedly telling him she'd run to the lobby and call for an ambulance.

"Emma, wait. It'll…be quicker…" he was wheezing and wincing, struggling with his words through the hazy fog of pain, "it'll be quicker…if you drive. I'll g-guide you."

She nodded numbly, helping him up the steps and feeling him sway unsteadily as he leaned heavily on her for support. His vision was blurring at the edges and he was fighting to remain conscious. He sucked in air through his teeth, trying to focus on anything but the white-hot tendrils of pain that made his stomach churn with every slight movement.

"I'm a fucking idiot…"

He mumbled, the fingers of his good hand gripping Emma's shoulder tightly as they moved as quickly as possible toward the lobby. Emma shook her head.

"Yeah, but you're my fucking idiot."

She said as lightly as she could manage. She couldn't help but feel a little bit responsible. If she hadn't worried him with her paranoid panicking, he wouldn't have switched her rooms and therefore wouldn't have been anywhere near those much-too-steep steps. She didn't vocalize her guilt, because she knew he'd scoff at her for it. But that didn't stop her feeling it regardless.

Grabbing his car keys from behind the reception desk, Emma helped Killian into the passenger seat and ran round to jump in behind the wheel. She'd never driven on the left before and she decided not to divulge that fact to him. He already had enough to worry about with directing her. She also happened to be particularly dreadful at following driving directions (in her own defense, she reasoned, at home she had a driver who mostly saw to it that she rarely sat behind the wheel and he'd once informed her, jokingly, that he felt safer knowing she wasn't let loose in control of a vehicle).

"_This is going to be…interesting."_

She thought, taking a deep breath and switching on the ignition. The four-wheel drive roared to life but her heart sank as she looked down at the gear stick.

"Killian? I've…erm…never driven a stick shift before…"


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry this has taken so long, guys! But here it is.  
If you're wanting a visual for Jane, I've based her on Lexie Grey (Grey's Anatomy) looks-wise and her personality is kinda Felicity Smoak (Arrow)-esque. Sweet, kind and adorably awkward, but with a nice side of sass.

And remember, reviews feed my muse! ;) You're all the bestest! 

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

"What the hell is a roundabout?! Killian, I don't know what you're telling me! Oh my god, is that a cow in the road?!"

Emma had never felt quite as stressed as she did speeding clumsily down winding country roads that seamlessly led on to quiet freeways. She'd played sold out shows in front of tens of thousands of people around the world…but driving on British roads with absolutely no idea where she was going was definitely topping her list of Most Stressful Experiences.

Killian was verging on delirious with the immense amount of pain from his arm and he couldn't bring himself to look at it again. He'd yelped quite loudly when Emma had insisted on wrapping her jacket around it to slow the bleeding before they'd pulled out of the driveway, and now he was doing his best to keep it as still as possible, despite Emma's jerky driving each time she changed gears.

He tried his best to give her directions, taking deep, steadying breaths through his nose to fend off the nausea and attempt to keep himself from passing out. He was gritting his teeth and digging his nails into his thigh through his jeans because he remembered hearing once that inflicting pain to somewhere else on your body distracted your brain from the original pain. It wasn't really working.

"Take the exit at the next junction. The roundabout will be coming up in five minutes. It's a big circle on the road that you go around. Not across. Do _not_ drive across it, Emma."

He wheezed, noticing that when he inhaled, the ribs on his left side shifted and it felt like he was being stabbed every time they did so. He couldn't believe that he'd managed to injure himself quite so badly from falling down a flight of nine steps. Granted, it was a _steep_ flight of nine steps.

"Oh please, I _probably_ wouldn't have driven across it…" she shot back, attempting to find the humor in the situation, "this exit?"

Killian nodded and she glanced over at him, praying silently that he'd manage to stay conscious at least until they arrived at the hospital. As she cautiously navigated the roads, the last thing on her mind was the fact that she was taking a huge risk by leaving the hotel.

The idea of Killian going to the hospital alone hadn't even been an option in her mind. All thoughts of protecting herself and remaining safe in the confines of the hotel had flown out of her head and the only thing she could think about was getting him medical attention.

If he hadn't been bleeding so much, or had sustained a more minor injury, perhaps she would have stopped for a moment and realized that her feelings for Killian were making her careless. The moment she stepped into that ER, anyone could recognize her and it would almost definitely get back to Neal somehow. But that didn't even occur to her as she swung the car awkwardly round the roundabout, holding her breath as she did so and only breathing again once she was safely back onto a straight road.

"Your roads are awful…shit, I'm on the wrong side!"

She cried, turning the wheel sharply and forcing the car into the correct lane moments before a car speeding in the opposite direction blared its horn at her. Killian had his eyes tight shut now and she wasn't entirely sure whether it was from the pain in his arm or their near-death experience with a pick-up truck on a two-lane road.

It felt like an eternity before he finally told her that they were approaching the hospital, but they managed to get through the rest of the journey without almost dying again. The relief that washed over her as the huge building came into view ahead of them was fleeting though, and she jumped out of the car the moment she pulled up in front of the ER doors.

Calling for help from a man she spotted wearing scrubs, she rounded the car and helped him out. The moment he stood up, the color drained from his face she knew immediately that he'd finally lost the fight to remain conscious. As he slumped against her, she instinctively wrapped her arms around him to keep him from falling to the floor.

Thankfully, the man in scrubs ran over with a wheelchair and helped her to move the dead weight of an unconscious Killian into it before quickly leading her through the ER doors. She followed in a daze, totally unaware of the staring and double takes from strangers as she went.

As the man in scrubs bustled through a set of swinging double doors, a woman wearing a matching set of scrubs stopped them, immediately taking the wheelchair from the man and glancing up at Emma. She stopped dead for a moment and stared at her, before shaking her head and nodding toward one of the bays.

"We'll take him into this cubicle and then I'll come get all his details, okay? Are you family? Because if not, you're gonna have to wait outside once he's booked in."

"Oh… yeah. I'm his girlfriend."

Emma stumbled over her words and she felt the quick flutter of her heart as they left her lips. She didn't want to be sat outside anxiously waiting to hear that he was alright, and that was the _only_ reason she'd allowed the lie to fall from her lips. Or at least, that's what she was silently trying to convince herself.

They hadn't discussed what they actually were to one another, and hearing herself telling this stranger so easily that Killian was her boyfriend unnerved her just the slightest bit.

The woman nodded and as she wheeled Killian into a cubicle, he began to stir. He immediately screamed out as the pain returned with his consciousness and the woman pushed Emma aside, two others rushing in to help her in getting Killian onto the hospital bed.

He was thankfully rather complicit once he was lying back on the bed, his arm still wrapped up with Emma's jacket and cradled against his chest. He was clutching his left side though and wincing on every labored in-breath. One of the doctors noticed that immediately and turned to Emma.

"Can you…" he stopped, just as the woman had when she'd first seen her, "Sorry, erm…can you tell me what happened?"

Emma shifted and glanced over at Killian, who managed to grace her with a small smile despite his pain.

"He fell down stairs. It was a steep flight of stairs and I'm pretty sure I saw the bone sticking out of his arm."

Emma frowned, watching as the two doctors with Killian exchanged a pointed glance when they carefully unwrapped the jacket from his arm. She knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Okay, ma'am. I'm gonna ask you to step outside with me and give me your partner's details so I can book him into our system, while my colleagues check out his injuries."

Emma nodded numbly, her arms folded across her chest and her whole body beginning to tremble with the shock of it all. He led her to a workstation just outside the cubicle and clicked away at the computer for a few moments before requesting all the information she'd expected. Name, date of birth, home address and so on.

She reeled off the details and, as he typed, the man looked up at her again.

"I'm sorry, I know you must get this all the time, but you look so much like that singer, Emma Swan."

Emma grimaced and it was only then that the full force of realization hit her. She was stood in the middle of a busy ER; completely oblivious to the fact that people were pointing and whispering all around her, and she hadn't even given a second thought to the fact that her cover was now well and truly blown.

The instinctive need to excuse herself and find the nearest bathroom to hide out in while she regained her composure was difficult to fight, but she just about managed to do so. Swallowing hard, she forced a smile, her voice much calmer than she felt.

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

He eyed her carefully and she could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. In her haste to get Killian help, she'd been careless. Her feelings for him had overshadowed her fear of being found and she'd been so focused on his wellbeing that she'd completely forgotten, for a brief time, that she was in hiding.

"Guess it's the accent too," the man pointed out, "We don't get many Americans around-"

"Can I go back in with Killian now?"

She cut him off quickly, desperate to avoid saying something that would blow her cover even further. She looked over her shoulder toward the cubicle where she could hear groans of pain and the muffled reassurances of the doctors. The man gestured for her to go ahead and she rushed back behind the temporarily safe confines of the curtained cubicle.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

After being shuttled back and forth for x-rays and poked and prodded more than Killian really felt was necessary, he was finally informed by one of the nurses that the anesthetist was on his way down to prep him for surgery. When Emma had stepped out earlier, one of the doctors had told him he was more than likely going to need a metal plate in his arm, but he'd been silently hoping it was less serious than they'd thought.

Emma, however, hadn't been prepared for the idea that he might need surgery. She sat quietly, holding his good hand tightly when the anesthetist arrived and calmly explained the procedure, risks and aftercare to them. Killian could see the tears in Emma's eyes as she listened silently, and he interlaced their fingers, squeezing softly in a silent effort to reassure her that everything would be just fine.

When the doctor left them alone again, a single tear slid down Emma's cheek and she quickly brushed it away, offering him a pained smile.

"Maybe we should make up a good story for you to tell after this. Because falling down some stairs is gonna sound like a pretty lame reason for needing a metal plate in your arm."

She joked, but he could hear the note of fear in her voice. Chuckling, he shook his head. The pain meds they'd given him had kicked in and he was feeling pleasantly numb.

"How about we tell everyone I saved you from an escaped mountain lion?"

Killian suggested, closing his eyes and chuckling, the morphine making his head fuzzy and the mental image he'd conjured of chasing a mountain lion across the lawn was proving extremely amusing to him.

"Are there many mountain lions in the English countryside?"

Emma laughed, rolling her eyes and remembering how out-of-it she'd been when she'd had her wisdom teeth removed at fourteen. Mary Margaret still occasionally reminded her of some of the horrifically humiliating statements she'd come out with while high on pain meds.

"Well there's some mean stray cats, if they count?"

Killian murmured, the lightness of his tone telling her that the morphine was certainly doing its job. Their lighthearted banter continued for a little while longer until he was taken up to surgery. Emma stood awkwardly watching him being wheeled off down the hallway, anxiously chewing her thumbnail and attempting to fight back tears. She'd promised Killian that while he was in surgery she'd call Liam and let him know what was going on, so focusing her mind on that task, she ducked her head and made her way to the exit, making sure to avoid attracting any sort of attention.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Killian's surgery lasted a little under three hours. Liam had pulled up to the hospital thirty minutes after Emma had called him and attempted to assure him that everything was under control. Predictably, he'd taken out his frustration and worry on her.

He had, of course, blamed her for the current predicament and reminded her that she was nothing but bad news for his brother. She had been half-expecting his reaction, so she simply took it and fought back her innate urge to retaliate.

"That's enough, Liam! Leave her alone, this isn't Emma's fault and you know it," Jane had forcibly stepped between Liam and Emma, her hand on Liam's chest pushing him back and forcing him to back off, "I get that you're upset. We all are. But taking it out on her isn't helping."

She offered a small smile of apology to Emma and threw a glare at Liam. The anger was still radiating from Liam in waves but he relented to his girlfriend's orders and moved away, turning his back on them and running a hand through his hair.

They were stood outside, and his little outburst had drawn the attention of the few people who were milling around. Emma was acutely aware of everyone who cast a glance their way, and had purposely stayed well out of the way of the waiting room, knowing she'd be a sitting duck in there.

"He's really protective of Killian, as you've probably realized by now," Jane said gently, reaching out to squeeze Emma's arm reassuringly, "So don't take it personally, because I'm pretty sure he'd be a little bitch to anyone his baby brother got involved with."

Emma smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She appreciated the woman coming to her defense, when she really wouldn't have blamed her for sharing Liam's views. She _was_ bad news, especially now that her cover was undoubtedly blown. Killian was going to be dragged into her mess of a life and it was entirely her fault. She'd let him in, had let feelings get involved, when she knew it was only going to make things that much more complicated.

After Jane had dragged Liam aside and they'd shared what appeared to be a heated, colorfully worded exchange, the three of them headed up to surgical recovery to await any news on Killian. There was a silent tension between Jane and Liam, that much was clear, and Emma was acutely aware of the pointed glances Liam was receiving from his girlfriend.

They sat down anxiously in the waiting room together, eagerly attempting eye contact with anyone wearing scrubs happening to approach their general vicinity. After a little while longer of heavy glances aimed Liam's way, he finally heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he grumbled, clearly coerced into the apology by Jane, "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did. I'm just worried about Killian and I took that out on you. Sorry."

Jane smiled at him and nodded and Emma held his gaze for a moment before offering him a weak smile and holding her hand out - a peace offering, of sorts.

"Why don't we just start over? We didn't really get off on the right foot. Hi, I'm Emma."

Liam's eyes, so very similar to Killian's, dropped to her hand and he hesitated for a moment before reaching out and grasping it in a firm handshake.

"Liam. Nice to meet you, Emma."

He said quietly and she could easily read the wariness in his voice and his deceptively expressive eyes. She didn't blame him, really. He was protective of his little brother, and the only outcome Liam could see when he watched Killian with Emma was heartbreak. Again. And he wasn't sure Killian would be able to put the pieces back together for a second time when she – inevitably, in Liam's eyes – walked away.

Jane stood up then and both Emma and Liam's gazes lifted questioningly.

"We're gonna be here a while, I'm guessing. So Emma and I will go get coffee and you can wait here for any news. How does that sound?"

Liam pressed his lips together, an objection clearly teetering on his tongue, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips and he simply responded with a succinct nod. Emma knew she could definitely go for a caffeine hit (and she idly wondered if they'd throw a shot of something a little stronger in there too) so she had no objections, following Jane out into the hallway and throwing a cursory glance either way to make sure no one had clocked her. Luckily, there were very few people milling about, mostly members of staff who were too engrossed in charts and conversations to pay the two women any attention.

"He needs some time on his own to process all of this," Jane said gently, looping her arm through Emma' as they walked, "He struggles to accept the fact that Killy is an adult and can make his own decisions. Liam and I practically raised him, so the line between brother and father sometimes blurs for him. He was always protective, don't get me wrong, but after the accident…I don't know how much Killy's told you about losing Milah, but it was a rough few years after that."

Emma swallowed hard and nodded, remembering Killian opening up to her about his dead fiancée and the hollow ache in her chest she'd felt seeing the flash of pain in that too-blue gaze.

"_I watched her slip away in the middle of a car wreck on a Tuesday night…"_

His words had echoed in her mind for days after, and she shook her head as they returned with a vengeance.

"I totally get why Liam doesn't like me and I don't expect him to welcome me with open arms considering everything he's probably heard. I know that from the outside this…_thing_ with Killian looks like a rebound or something. But I swear to you, I wouldn't do that to him. Neither of us understood it, but there was an instant connection when we met…and I know that sounds so ridiculously cliché, but I've never felt about anyone the way I feel for Killian. It…kinda scares me, I'll be honest."

A rueful smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she felt Jane squeeze her arm reassuringly as they walked into the hospital store. But if she'd been about to reply, the words were lost as three teenagers who were huddled around the magazine stands started squealing and Emma felt her heart sink when she saw that their attention was focused on her, their eyes wide with excitement.

"Oh my god, please can we get a picture with you?"

One of the young girls asked and Emma felt the panic rising within her but quickly schooled her face into the mask she was so used to wearing now. She'd perfected the art of the fake smile but the teens were so starstruck and overwhelmed by her presence that she knew they probably wouldn't have noticed either way.

"Sure you can. Let's take some selfies."

She smiled warmly, her chirpy enthusiasm emerging from the place she always kept it stored for 'just in case' situations like this. Jane had stepped back but was watching her carefully and Emma noticed how impressed she looked with the acting skills currently being demonstrated.

The three girls simultaneously fumbled with their cell phones, giggling and brimming with nervous excitement as they turned their cameras round to face them and crowded into a group shot. Emma saw her face pop up on three screens and smiled brightly, resting her chin on one of the girl's shoulders and gazing into each camera in turn, the way she had done thousands of times before with thousands of different fans.

One of the girls couldn't seem to stop shaking in order to take a photo, so Emma held out her hand and smiled.

"Here, let me."

She grinned as the girl gawped at her before handing her the phone with a trembling hand, 'oh my god' muttered under her breath. Emma draped an arm over the teen's shoulder and snapped a quick photo before handing the phone back to her.

"We love you so much! We've been to seven of your shows and my name's Emma too."

One of the girl's bumbled, her cheeks bright red as she gazed up at Emma in awe. The two other girls hung behind her, matching expressions and beaming smiles on their young faces. Part of Emma ached for that feeling of pure joy, the excitement they clearly felt, but it warmed her heart too. No matter what she was going through in real life, or how much she struggled with the realities of living under a microscope that the whole world was looking down, meeting young people who were clearly inspired by her did make a difference.

"Well, hey, Emma. Thank you for coming to all those shows; I appreciate that a lot. And what's your names, girls?"

"Hannah!" and "Lexie!" quickly supplied their names and nervously held out the magazines they'd tucked under their arms with polite requests for her autograph. Glancing down at the covers, Emma saw her own face and Neal's staring back at her and had to quickly squash the wave of alarm causing her throat to instantly constrict.

"_Neal desperate to bring Emma home!"_

She felt anger immediately bubble up inside her as she read the tagline under their picture, but knew she couldn't very well vent that frustration in front of three kids. So, as calmly as she could, consciously maintaining her perfect Hollywood smile, she took the magazines and scribbled her signature across Neal's face before handing them back and reminding them lightheartedly to pay for the magazines. She then waved goodbye to them and grabbed Jane's arm, intent on getting the hell out of the store as quickly as possible, caffeine be damned.

Jane asked no questions, but she could quite clearly see that the magazine covers had upset Emma and when she'd spied the taglines, she could understand why. From the very little Killian had spoken about Emma and Neal's breakup, she assumed it was complicated. But there hadn't seemed to be an ounce of uncertainty in the permanence of their split, at least not from Killian's point of view.

"Are you okay?"

Jane asked tentatively when the elevator doors finally shut in front of them, the tension in Emma's shoulders very apparent. She visibly deflated and sighed deeply.

"He's an asshole. Neal, I mean. He's not 'desperate to bring me home' or whatever crap he's feeding to the media. Or, he is, but not for the _reasons_ he's shouting about. He's desperate to control me and get me back to being his good little puppy. And when I finally found the courage to call him out on his bullshit and told him I was done, he got abusive," at Jane's horrified expression, she chewed on her bottom lip, "not physically. He's never _physically_ hurt me. But I wouldn't be all that surprised if he tried to now that the emotional abuse isn't working."

Jane remained quiet, not knowing what she could possibly say to comfort this woman who seemed so damn indestructible from the outside. Admittedly, she didn't know all that much about Emma, other than what everyone apparently knew. She was America's Sweetheart. She sold millions of records worldwide and had a pretty far-reaching fanbase. And she wasn't a party girl, unlike so many other stars her age. That pretty much summed up Jane's knowledge, generally being oblivious to celebrity gossip and preferring to remain that way.

"I just don't want Killian to get dragged into all this. Neal is…possessive. When I first moved to LA, that made me feel safe – having him beside me constantly, threatening anyone who dared to get too close. But it kept me pretty isolated as well, and I didn't realize it back then. I thought he was taking care of me…I thought he loved me."

Emma's gaze dropped to the floor, a shaky sigh passing her lips, and she hated how weak she sounded. But it felt like somewhat of a relief to talk about it, when she'd always kept everything bottled up. Running a hand through her tangled mess of blonde curls, she stepped forward as the doors rolled open and Jane followed silently.

As they approached the waiting room and saw Liam still sitting in the same seat, idly scrolling through his phone, Jane stopped her.

"Just so you know, Emma…Killian will never hurt you like Neal has."


	11. Chapter 11

This is a very short chapter compared to the last few. But I felt this was a good place to end the chapter...*whispers* please don't hate me! I just love angst and drama build-up so damn much. It's a disease, I can't help it.

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Killian's nightmare was always the same. It started with sirens, loud and angry, blue and red flashes behind his eyelids. The fear, swirling like acid in his stomach, would steadily climb until he felt like he was suffocating on it, sharp tendrils of terror clamping down on his windpipe.

Then he'd see her face, Milah's face. He'd see her grey-blue eyes wide and boring into his own, as he held her tight and screamed, pleading with her not to leave him, not to slip away in his arms. He'd watch helplessly as the light in her eyes dulled, the flame flickering out right in front of him until her last breath caught in her throat, a soft sigh signaling that she'd gone.

It was always the same.

Until now. Until he realized, with utter horror, that the eyes he was looking down into were green, with tiny flecks of gold that he already knew by heart. And the name falling from his lips in choked whimpers, lodging in his throat, wasn't Milah. It was Emma.

His entire world was spinning, heart pounding a painful staccato against his ribs, as he dropped desperate kisses and pleas onto her lips and felt his name ghosting from her mouth in a hoarse reply.

"Emma, no…Gods, love, please don't leave me."

He didn't even recognize his own voice as he begged her to stay, hot tears streaking down his cheeks. It was all so vivid that could feel her soft skin under his thumb when he swiped it across her tear-stained cheek, watching as her lashes fluttered in response.

The chaos around them had faded into nothing but a muted hum, barely registering with him. All he could focus on was the last few precious seconds of having her in his arms, knowing that he would ever mend the shattered pieces of his heart she was going to leave behind.

"Killian, it's okay. Killian...I'm right here, open your eyes."

Confusion mingled with the devastation that was coursing through him with bruising force and suddenly the blue and red lights were fading, replaced by a harsh iridescent glow and whitewashed walls.

He blinked rapidly, his heart still racing, but reality started seeping back with his consciousness. He had no idea where he was, but it smelled like bleach and sorrow. His eyes open wide now, they darted to the side and softened the instant he met Emma's worried gaze.

His stomach felt strange, like he was swimming and had tried to put his feet down on something solid, but had found the water deeper than he'd anticipated and there was no way to find his footing. But the moment his eyes found hers, that unsettled feeling began to ease.

Her green eyes were so bright, unlike the fading emeralds he'd been staring into just seconds ago. Her name fell from his lips like a prayer, relief fluttering around his heart, and he reached for her, needing to touch her to really ground himself.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

She whispered, letting him pull her into his embrace and instinctively burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, while his fingers carded through her hair. She could feel his pulse racing against her cheek and couldn't help but wonder what he'd been seeing behind his closed eyes when he'd cried out her name so brokenly.

His heart rate had sped up on the monitor and a sudden, hoarse cry had torn through the stillness, startling Jane, Liam and Emma who had been sat patiently waiting for him to come round from the anesthetic. The three of them were immediately by his bedside, but it was Emma's name that he whimpered as he reached for her.

Liam was rooted to the spot in silence as he watched his brother's broken expression vanish the moment his eyes found Emma, and he felt Jane squeezing his arm gently. They both knew that cry too well.

They had been startled awake so many times by Killian's devastated voice down the hallway calling Milah's name into the darkness. It happened almost every night in the year following the accident, but gradually it had become a rare occurrence. He'd finally stopped reliving those final moments every single night.

Until now.

Hearing his little brother cry out _Emma's_ name, a quiet "please don't leave me" whimpered from his semi-conscious state, had Liam's heart cracking painfully in his chest. When he glanced at Jane, he knew she'd heard it too, knew he wasn't the only one who had instantly flashed back to four years ago.

Killian pulled back to find Emma's gaze then, his thumb brushing over her cheek as though to assure himself she really was there. She smiled at him, tears in her eyes, and softly reassured him again that she wasn't going anywhere.

Whatever he'd seen, she could tell it had rattled him to the core, leaving behind a haunted look in his eyes that he'd only ever had when he'd spoken about Milah. And by the troubled glances she noticed Liam and Jane exchanging, Emma knew he was reliving moments from his past…though this time she was apparently the one he was losing.

"Killy, you're in the hospital," Jane said softly, smiling when Killian's head turned to meet her gaze, "You just had surgery, but you're okay."

The tension seemed to slowly ease out of his shoulders and he leaned back against the bed, looking down at his arm, now in a cast, with a frown until his anesthetic-fogged mind began to clear and he remembered what had happened.

"I broke my arm."

"Yeah, that you did, little brother. Pretty badly. And you cracked two ribs as well, apparently," Liam added, "Because you're a clumsy sod and fell down the stairs."

Killian chuckled lightly, but instantly winced from the pain in his side. Liam sighed and Jane slipped her arm around his waist as she addressed Killian.

"We wanted to be here when you woke up, but we're gonna leave you two alone now," Emma could see from Liam's face that he wasn't thrilled at the idea of leaving but he kept quiet while Jane continued, "You're gonna be allowed home tomorrow if the docs are happy with everything. And maybe we'll keep you away from stairs for a while."

Jane smirked and Killian rolled his eyes, while Liam reached out to ruffle his brother's hair, offering him a small smile before following Jane toward the door. They said their goodbyes and when they'd gone, Emma perched on the side of the bed, a long sigh passing her lips. It had been a long, worrying few hours, but now that he was finally awake, the relief she felt was overwhelming.

"Now, I probably can't say it's the first time a guy's dreamed about me, if I'm being really honest, but…do you wanna talk about that?"

She asked tentatively, knowing that what he'd been seeing behind closed eyes likely wasn't something he'd want to revisit, but at the same time she wasn't about to just ignore the agonized cries that had torn from his lips and how much they'd rattled her.

She saw Killian's jaw clench and reached out to trace the line of stubble, her small hand gently cupping his cheek as she held his gaze, wordlessly telling him that it was _okay_.

It was long moments before he finally found his voice, and when he did, it sounded strained and foreign to his ears. He trained his gaze downward as he spoke.

"I dreamed I was losing you…the way I lost Milah. I've had that dream thousands of times, but…but this time…I saw _you_. I held you as you slipped away."

He could feel his heart pounding, the air in the room suddenly too stifling, too suffocating. Her fingers against his cheek grounded him, but that helpless feeling that took hold every time he remembered that night was churning in his stomach.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She whispered, not knowing how else to reassure him with words. Despite her eloquence in songwriting, Emma had never found it easy to express emotions. The words always lodged in her throat, or burned her tongue, and her lips would press into a thin line to stop them from escaping. She didn't know how to _tell _him, to assure him that he wasn't losing her. So, before she could really think about it, she let her actions take the place of words.

Killian could see the tears in Emma's eyes as she processed his words and she was suddenly leaning closer, her broken green gaze on his lips. He realized what she was about to do and pulled back quickly, shaking his head and ignoring the way his fingers twitched with the urge to pull her closer. She frowned, confusion flashing across her face.

"Emma…not here. I don't want our first kiss to be in a hospital bed," he reached out and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her cheek, "None of our firsts should be in a hospital bed."

He smiled cheekily and she laughed, not expecting his charming humor so soon after he woke up. She nodded in reply before pressing two fingers to her own lips, which she then pressed gently against his. He smiled against her fingers and she sighed. Toeing off her boots, she pulled her legs up onto the bed and shuffled up to lie next to him.

"Scoot over, Jones," she ordered with a small smile, and he obliged, "I'm sure snuggling doesn't break your strict hospital bed rules."

She turned on her side then and his good arm instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close to him as he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. She nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers and how damn good he smelled.

Being so close to him, the hard planes of his body fitting perfectly against her soft curves, she felt a strange surge in the pit of her stomach. All evening she'd been worrying about him, about the complicated mess she'd left behind in LA, about how she would put her life back together at this point. But lying silently curled into him, feeling his breathing, steady and even under her fingertips as she rested her hand over his heart, she had never felt so at ease.

She felt her eyes getting heavy and didn't bother trying to fight the comforting lull of sleep that was seeping into her bones. Killian had promptly drifted off and she found herself pressing closer into his side, breathing him in, and finally succumbing to sleep with a small smile on her lips.

But as they slept, blissfully oblivious and sated by the effortless, innocent comfort they felt from simply being so close to one another, Emma's presence at the hospital was creating a ripple effect outside the safe confines of Killian's room. It wasn't long before sneaky reporters were milling around, attempting to look unassuming while concealing their zoom lenses, and it was somewhat inevitable that they'd get their money shot: Emma Swan, fast asleep, curled into the arms of a handsome stranger in a hospital bed. They couldn't have dreamed up such a perfect scandal even if they'd tried.

While Emma and Killian slept, the headlines for the next day were frantically being written. The hiding, the secrecy, the safety of nobody knowing where she was…all of that was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. But for just a few more hours, they would get to hold onto their bliss. They would get the best night's sleep either one of them had ever had, and then they'd wake up to chaos.


	12. Chapter 12

I'm sorry this took so long, I've just had such a major block with getting it to flow!  
This one is a lot longer than the last chapter, but I couldn't resist the cliffhanger ending...again. LOL. Please don't hate me, I am gonna try my best to update as soon as possible! 

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Killian awoke first the next morning. As consciousness returned to him, his eyes still closed, he was distinctly aware that he wasn't alone. The warm pressure of Emma's body flush against his side, her hand still resting gently over his heart and one of her legs draped across his over the sheets, made him smile when he opened his eyes and glanced down at her.

Her face was tipped up to him, eyelids fluttering as she dreamed, and he couldn't help but drink in every little detail of her while he was afforded the opportunity to stare. She was beautiful. It wasn't that such an observation was a groundbreaking discovery, but seeing her unguarded, without any of the tension in her features that she seemed to permanently carry, was enough to steal his breath.

She looked so young and angelic when she slept, and Killian's fingers ached to reach up and touch her, but at the same time he wanted to hold onto the moment and was loathed to disturb her in any way. Content to memorize every purse of her lips, every flicker of her eyelids or soft sigh that fell from her lips, he stayed as still as he could.

But this stolen moment of calm didn't last long, because a few minutes later the insistent, shrill sound of his cell phone ringing broke the precious silence. Emma gave a start, instantly awake, and her eyes snapped open, wide with alarm.

Sighing, he fumbled for his phone, finding it difficult with just one hand to work with, and shot Emma an apologetic smile as he quickly answered.

"Yes, brother?"

He said impatiently, his tone of greeting signaling to Liam that he wasn't thrilled at being called so early. Then again, he had no idea what time it actually was.

Emma stifled a yawn and sat up, watching Killian's face and keeping quiet to see whether she could make out what Liam was saying. Judging by the way Killian's shoulders instantly tensed, his jaw clenching, she knew that whatever Liam saying wasn't good and she felt her stomach drop.

He muttered his responses, good hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear, and hung up a few minutes later. Emma searched his face, her worry evident.

"They took pictures of us, love. While we were sleeping."

He said softly, swallowing hard as he watched the realization and fear creep into her eyes. With her legs suddenly feeling like Jell-o, she slid off the bed and started to pace, barefoot, around the room. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the tangles, and he watched helplessly as she panicked, chewing on her bottom lip and darting glances toward the door. There was no obvious sign of people hanging around, and she could only assume that the nurses had chased out anyone spending a little too long near Killian's room.

But it was too late. The damage was done.

"How did Liam find out?"

Emma asked tentatively, her voice shaking slightly. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Killian shifted, staring down at the phone in his lap silently for long moments before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We're all over every newspaper and magazine in town, Emma."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

The first person Emma knew she had to speak to was her sister. So, after pacing Kilian's hospital room for the best part of ten minutes, she excused herself and made for the nearest bathroom. Killian was left staring helplessly after her as she darted out.

Spotting the nearest bathroom, she was relieved to find it empty and locked herself inside a cubicle. Leaning heavily against the door, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket…and saw that she had no signal at all. Damn hospital.

She could feel the familiar feeling of dread curling itself around her as she realized she'd have to venture outside if she wanted to use her phone. She had the distinct feeling that paparazzi wouldn't be all that far away and knew that the moment she stepped outside the hospital, it wouldn't be long before someone would spot her.

Steeling herself, Emma emerged from the cubicle and hurriedly made her way back down the corridor. As she did so, she spotted a service elevator, no doubt for laundry and such, and made the split-second decision to dart inside. Pressing the top floor button, she waited impatiently for the rickety elevator to drag itself upwards.

Long moments later, the door rolled open to reveal bare concrete walls and a single exit door.

The roof.

Feeling a thrill of relief rush through her, Emma stepped out of the elevator and glanced down at her phone, watching as the signal bars shot up the instant she stepped out of the elevator. With a heavy sigh of relief, she quickly hit speed-dial, well aware that it was the middle of the night in LA but not really caring, and held her breath until she heard her sister's sleepy "hello?" filter down the line.

"I'm so sorry for calling at this time-"

"Emma! I was trying to call you last night. What's going on over there? Graham turned up yesterday evening black and blue – Neal beat the crap out of him."

Mary Margaret had clearly shot up in bed the moment she'd heard Emma's voice, and all signs of sleep were instantly chased away. At her words, Emma gasped, her eyes widening and her hand flying to her mouth.

"It was Graham…he messaged me? I-I…I thought it was Neal fucking with me. Oh my god, this is all my fault-"

"Emma. Stop. Just tell me what the hell is going on!"

The no-nonsense tone of her sister's voice, the one she used when was anxious rather than angry, cut her off and she ran a trembling hand through her hair. Her mind was in overdrive and everything was spinning out of control faster than she could catch her breath.

"I…met someone. I've been staying at the hotel David recommended and the guy who helps run the place…nothing's happened yet but I think I'm falling for him. It's complicated. And Graham sent me a text yesterday, just checking in really, and I got paranoid thinking Neal was playing games and got hold of my burner number somehow…I didn't think it was really Graham. Is…is he okay?"

Taking a ragged breath, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and heard her sister's weary sigh.

"Oh, Emma. He's okay, just a little rattled, and he's sporting quite the black eye. But I'm sorry; I should have told you I'd given him your number, but I couldn't get hold of you. He was so worried and I knew he wouldn't tell Neal…I just didn't count on Neal beating it out of him."

Emma felt her blood run cold, fingers tightening around her cell phone as her heart hammered in her chest painfully. When she finally found her voice again, it was small and terrified and she didn't even recognize the sound of it to her own ears.

"Neal…knows where I am?"

"No. No, he just knows you're in England. He…caught a flight out there last night, I think. But you're out of the way where you are, right? He won't know where to even start looking for you, honey."

Tears of panic began to blur Emma's vision and she leaned against the cool concrete wall to find purchase before she ended up keeling over. Her chest felt too tight, not enough oxygen reaching her lungs with the short, shallow breaths she was taking. Focusing on steadying herself, long inhalations through her nose, it took a moment for her to find her voice.

"I'm at the hospital-"

"Oh my god, are you hurt?"

Mary Margaret was pacing, Emma could tell just by her tone and couldn't help but smile ruefully.

"No, I'm okay. Killian – the guy I mentioned before – he fell down stairs and broke his arm. He had surgery so we've been here overnight…but it's not gonna be long before Neal finds me."

Her voice wavered and she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall as Mary Margaret inquired as to why that might be.

"You're no doubt gonna find out in the morning…some pap apparently got a picture of us – of me and Killian – in his hospital bed. It was innocent, but it's not gonna be painted that way."

Mary Margaret stayed quiet for a moment, but the tense silence stretched out between them and Emma chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. Just as she thought her sister may have hung up on her, Mary Margaret's tired voice filtered down the line.

"I think it's time you came home, Emma."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"What do you want me to say?"

Emma was sat at Killian's bedside. She'd been more than a little subdued since returning to his room – and making sure to roll the blinds and shut the door as she did so – but Killian had simply given her the space she needed, which made her heart ache even more.

Looking up at him, an involuntary shiver ghosting over her skin as she met those sea-blue eyes, she frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?"

She asked quietly, fingers knotted together giving her otherwise-well disguised anxiety away. It was a tell of hers that he'd picked up on very quickly.

"When they ask me questions…about _us_. What do you want me to say?"

She stared back at him blankly for a few seconds as his words sank in. He was deferring to her, and she had absolutely no idea how to answer him, because she wasn't even sure what _she_ was supposed to say. There was no doubt they'd be having a field day speculating, but Emma had always simply let Neal deal with the media before now…

"I don't know," she finally answered, her voice small, "I never used to respond to what they'd write about me…Neal always handled it."

Dropping her gaze to her lap, she rubbed her knuckles and sighed, knowing she had to come up with something before Killian was discharged from the hospital.

As if on cue, a young doctor in light blue scrubs knocked and popped his head round the door. Killian and Emma both looked up at him expectantly and he addressed Killian, despite his eyes darting over to Emma repeatedly.

"Erm, Mr. Jones? I'm just here to check your dressing and if it's looking good, I'll sign your discharge papers and you're free to go home."

He offered a nervous smile to Emma before striding over to Killian's side and snapping on some gloves. As she watched, Emma couldn't help but feel the knot of worry in her stomach tighten knowing that they might have to face the unwanted media attention sooner than she'd anticipated if they were ready to discharge him now.

Attempting to quell the panic, she stayed quiet, chewing on her bottom lip. A few minutes later, the doctor smiled brightly and finished reapplying the dressing to Killian's arm.

"Looks good. You'll need to attend fracture clinic next week to get it re-dressed, but I'm happy with how it's looking. I'll just finish your discharge papers and then you can head home."

Killian thanked him and once he'd disappeared out of the room, he turned to Emma. He could easily see the worry in her eyes, but she was doing a remarkably good job of keeping her expression neutral, offering him a small smile that didn't quite manage to reach her eyes.

"We'll be okay. It'll all die down and they'll leave us alone soon enough, I'm sure."

Raising an eyebrow and sighing softly, Emma shook her head. He had no idea what the paparazzi were like, obviously. She wanted to tell him they were like vultures, and that they'd circle and attack until there was nothing left of them to tear apart, but at the same time she didn't want to scare him. They'd no doubt be met with a hundred cameras shoved in their faces the moment they stepped out of the hospital, and that was going to be enough to deal with for now.

Once he was dressed and ready to go, discharge papers signed and Liam texting to let them know he was ready and waiting outside for their great escape, they headed for the exit. Emma's heart was racing and as they were about to step out of the elevator, she slammed her hand down on the emergency stop button. The elevator immediately jerked to a standstill and Killian turned a confused frown toward her.

"Emma? What's-"

"I just need a moment," she answered quickly, voice quivering, "I've never been good at this. I need to psych myself up for it."

He nodded slowly but she could still feel his concerned gaze on her. He tentatively reached out and took hold of her wrist, guiding her into his arms and rubbing soothing circles against her back with his good hand. She melted into his embrace and tried her best to hold onto the stolen moment before they faced the chaos.

Pulling back long seconds later, she looked up at him and managed a small, shaky smile. He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek before pushing her hair back behind her ear and letting his fingers linger against the soft skin of her neck.

"I'll be right beside you," he promised, "It'll be over in a few minutes and then we can just ignore whatever crap they decide to write about us. Screw them. Seriously, I don't care what they say; all I care about is you."

He smiled down at her and for a moment she was sure he was about to lean down and kiss her, so her eyelashes fluttered and her gaze dropped to his lips. He sensed her anticipation and gently grazed the dimple in her chin with his thumb.

"Afterwards. I want to take my time and kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed, Emma."

She felt a flood of heat surge through her at his words, her breath hitching as she bit her bottom lip. When he said things like that she wanted nothing more than to push him against the nearest flat surface and kiss him senseless. But now was not the time, and they couldn't stay locked in the elevator forever.

So, reluctantly, Emma reached over and released the emergency stop button, feeling her stomach clenching painfully, tendrils of fear causing her entire body to stiffen, as the automated voice announced their arrival on the ground floor a few seconds later.

The doors rolled open slowly and Emma slipped her hand into Killian's as they both steeled themselves, sharing a glance before they both took a deep breath and stepped out together.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Emma! EMMA!"

"Ms. Swan!"

"Emma, over here!"

Her head was spinning as a hundred flashes exploded before her eyes the very second they emerged through the automatic doors. A handful of bemused hospital security guards were fighting the gaggle of photographers back but they were significantly outnumbered and Emma knew they would be surrounded in seconds if they didn't get out of there fast.

Looking up at Killian, she realized she had absolutely no idea what Liam was driving; he squeezed her hand and ducked his head after pointedly glancing over to an SUV very similar to his own that was parked right in the center of the drop off zone. As she followed his gaze, she saw Liam jump out of the driver's side and hurry round to open the door of the backseat for them.

Feeling her heart hammering, the flashes still blinding her, she gritted her teeth and pushed past a few photographers who rammed their cameras closer to her face than she felt would really ever be appropriate, and tugged Killian behind her.

It was the longest few minutes she'd faced in a long while and when they were finally inside the safe confines of the car, she realized she'd been holding her breath. The second the doors were closed behind them, Liam put his foot down and none of them spoke until the hospital had disappeared out of view.

"It's over. You can breathe now."

Killian said gently, his hand still clasping hers, and she lifted a rueful gaze to meet his soft smile.

"This has barely even started, Killian," her voice was strained and she watched his smile falter, "They're relentless and they'll make up whatever they want to print a story. And…Neal's in England. So, it's probably not going to be very long before he tracks me down."

Killian's wavering smile was replaced instantly by a frown then, his good hand tightening around hers before he let go and rubbed his face. He kept quiet for the majority of the journey back to the hotel, and Emma was acutely aware of Liam's careful glances in the rearview mirror. She couldn't blame him for worrying; the situation they were in was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated and Killian didn't deserve to be dragged through hell for a girl he'd only really just met.

When they finally pulled up outside the hotel, she was relieved to find no photographers camped outside the front doors. That meant they perhaps hadn't put enough pieces together just yet to track Killian, and therefore Emma herself, down and they had a little bit more time to figure out their next move.

Mary Margaret's words from earlier, about it being time to go home, were still playing on her mind as she followed Killian and Liam into the lobby and waited for the younger man to grab her room key from behind the desk. She hadn't even seen the room she'd been moved to yet, and she idly wondered whether her suitcase was still sat in the hallway where they'd left it when they'd hurried to get Killian to the hospital the day before.

"I put your case in your room."

Liam informed her, as though reading her mind, dropping down to sit on the seat behind the desk and casting her a quick glance. She nodded and thanked him quietly as Killian canted his head toward the hallway leading to their rooms.

"I'll walk with you," he offered, "I'm going to my room anyway."

She followed him and they walked in comfortable silence, her mind still full of thoughts she really needed to unscramble. But when he gently, tentatively, bumped her hand with his, interlacing their fingers when he caught the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, all those noisy thoughts were silenced.

He slowed his pace and tugged her hand, turning her so that she was facing him. Emma felt her heart stumble at their sudden, intimate proximity and she couldn't help but dart a glance down the hallway.

"Killian…"

She started, but he shook his head and grazed his thumb over her knuckles, making an involuntary shiver run up her arm. Even the slightest touch from him could illicit responses from her body that were anything but familiar.

"I just want you to know," he started, his voice a low rumble that sent a bolt of heat straight to her center, "I don't care what we have to face, I won't leave your side. We can learn how to deal with it together."

She felt her heart twisting at his words and her breath caught in her throat as he leaned closer, lifting his good hand and tracing the line of her jaw with his fingers ever so gently, as though he was touching the most delicate, precious flower in the world.

He scared the hell out of her and calmed her soul, both at the same time, when he looked at her the way he was doing in that moment. And she couldn't help but think that maybe _that_ was what love was – a complicated, terrifying contradiction that somehow balanced everything out. Because she'd never felt as off-kilter yet so sure of everything as she did when his eyes were burning holes into her soul.

"Could you please just kiss me, already?"

She whispered breathlessly, his lips so close that she could _feel_ the magnetic pull between them that had been there, growing in intensity, since the first moment they'd met. His lips twitched into a smile and he held her gaze for a moment longer before slowly, _so slowly_, closing the space between them and touching his lips to hers. Even with her request, he was still silently asking her permission.

Despite the fact that she'd been anticipating it (for _weeks_ if she's being honest), she still inhaled sharply and her eyes instinctively closed, willingly getting lost in the sensations he was stirring with the brush of his warm lips against her own. She breathed him in and pressed herself closer to him, one hand splayed delicately against his ribs while the other tangled in his hair, toying with the small wisps at the nape of his neck.

She felt a groan rumble in his throat and it was like her insides had caught fire, the heat he was creating in her ready to burn them both up. His right hand was in her hair, pulling her closer still and effortlessly deepening the kiss. She felt the touch of his tongue against her lips, a cautious request, and immediately complied, tilting her head to kiss him a little more thoroughly when his tongue swept against her own.

She had never felt so completely consumed by a simple kiss, but the way his lips were slanted against hers made it feel as though every nerve ending in her body was screaming his name. She had no idea how long they stood there, in the middle of the hallway, completely lost in one another, but she eventually pulled back, wonderstruck and breathing hard. He looked just as affected as she did and she couldn't help but smile, touching their foreheads together gently as they attempted to steady their racing hearts.

"That was…"

He started, and she could quite clearly hear how wrecked he was. His pupils were blown black, just the slightest hint of blue around the edges, and she was struck with the urge to kiss him again, to never _stop_ kissing him.

"Long overdue."

She whispered against his lips, her eyes dancing with amusement. Considering that the build up to their first kiss had been ridiculously and excruciatingly long, she was well aware of how unfulfilling it could have turned out to be. But that was certainly _not_ the word she'd use to describe what they'd just shared.

He grinned down at her, the hand that had been in her hair now gently against her neck, his thumb brushing against her pulse point and causing it to jump involuntarily. She couldn't help but marvel at the way her body responded so keenly to every single touch he administered and she couldn't help but indulge her imagination as he dropped a few more soft kisses onto her lips.

A mental image of herself arching beneath him, his lips pressed to that deliciously sensitive spot under her ear, and his hands gripping her hips as he pressed her into the soft sheets of his bed with each smooth thrust of his hips flashed through her mind. A white hot flash of heat hit her core and she knew they had to stop before she dragged him down to her room and made that daydream a reality.

So, reluctantly, she stepped back, a smile on her face despite the loss she felt with some distance back between them. He gave her that smile that always made butterflies take flight in her stomach, before he nodded toward the door leading out to his room.

"I'll just be across the courtyard if you want me," the sparkle in his eyes told her he meant exactly what she suspected he meant, "but otherwise I'll see you for lunch in a little while."

She watched with a barely-contained smile as he sauntered off to his room, a thrill running through her at the knowledge that he was clearly just as affected by their kiss as she was. She felt like she was on some kind of cloud, and the touch of his lips had chased away every fear and worry that had been weighing down so heavily on her since the moment she found out her cover was blown.

Sighing happily and shaking her head at herself, feeling like a silly teenage girl with a major crush, she practically skipped down the steps to her room. Turning the lock and slipping inside, she leaned back against the door and let her eyes fall shut for just one more moment of savoring the way her body still buzzed for him, already craving his touch again.

But when she heard the shuffle of footsteps in her room, her eyes snapped open and every warm, pleasant sensation lingering from Kilian's kiss instantly disappeared. She stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, her blood turning to ice in her veins as she choked on a gasp.

"Hello, Emma."

Neal sneered.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you SO much for all the incredible feedback you guys have been leaving for this fic, especially those of you who review every chapter! You give me LIFE! I appreciate you all so much.  
Yes, Neal is an absolute horror and a total asshole in this fic, because I am not exactly a Neal fan lol! :)  
Oh, and Jane is my very own Felicity Smoak!  
Enjoy!

Thank you to my amazing BFF/beta Hannah for being on top form and always inspiring me. You are my soulmate/brain twin and I love you.

* * *

**Lilac Wine**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

"Neal…"

Emma could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears as she stared, horrified, at the man in front of her. She must be hallucinating. She _had_ to be. Because how else could he have found her so quickly? She stood rooted to the spot with shock.

"Did you _really_ think I wouldn't find you, Emma?"

He slowly stepped forward; eyes burning into hers with a coldness that made her shrink back, a shiver of fear sweeping over her skin. Her legs felt like Jell-o but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble, so she clenched her jaw and stepped forward, lifting her chin to meet his glare head-on and standing toe-to-toe with him, knowing her gaze was equally as icy as his.

She saw the way his jaw twitched at her sudden confident defiance and she couldn't help but silently applaud herself for that small victory.

"And you think I'm just gonna submit to you and come back home like a good little puppy? I am _done_ with you-"

Despite the cold fire in her eyes and the way she managed to keep her voice from shaking, Emma certainly didn't feel as strong as she sounded. And that small burst of confidence was quickly doused out when Neal suddenly shoved her, hard, against the door behind her, eyes flashing with fury.

She gasped at the impact, the air knocked out of her lungs. Her heart was racing so fast it was making her light-headed, and Neal's sudden and unexpected presence had thrown her for loop. She couldn't help but dare a glance over his shoulder as he stepped forward again, unconsciously searching for the best way to escape.

He had her trapped, and the only way she could get out was back through the door she was now pressed against. He was standing too close for her to simply pull open the door and make a run for it though. She could feel her façade of icy indifference beginning to waver but she refused to let him see that.

Slipping her hand into her pocket, she subtly fumbled for her phone, sure she could manage to hit speed dial and alert Killian to what was going on. But her heart sank as she found her pocket empty and suddenly remembered handing Killian her phone before they left the hospital. She was stuck, and she could feel the panic swirling painfully in her stomach as that realization hit her, rising up and making her want to gag.

"H-how did you find me?"

She asked, the waver in her voice betraying her stony expression. And she knew he'd caught it because he smirked, his hand slamming into the door beside her head and making her wince.

"I will _always_ find you. When Graham said he hadn't heard from you, I knew he was lying. I saw your text, with the foreign number, and I had that number traced. That's a perk to having all the _connections_ I have, Emma. I also taught your beloved Graham a lesson, and then I had the jet bring me out here. Last night, I got a phone call letting me know you were in a hospital up here with some guy called Killian Jones. Do you know how easy it is to locate someone with a name like _that_?"

He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers and leaned in, his lips so close to hers that she had to resist the urge to shudder. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd noticed the scruff burn or that her lips had been very well kissed just moments before she'd entered the room.

"You don't just leave the fucking country because I forgot we had a date, Emma."

"It was our anniversary. And it wasn't the first time."

She shot back quietly, every part of her screaming to push him away, to slap him, to do _anything_ but stand so close to him. She could smell the coffee and mint on his breath, a taste she'd once loved when she kissed him. Now, it turned her stomach and she wondered how she'd ever craved that, how she'd ever craved _him_.

"So you run off to the other side of the world, completely disregarding your job, your responsibilities…_me_? Instead of yelling at me and getting the fuck over it like an adult?"

The venom in his voice, the anger from him that she'd never had directed at her, and the way his eyes held hers in a cold glare, had her shrinking back and feeling like that little orphan girl of seven again, folding into herself as yet another foster parent broke her down.

"We're over…"

She whispered, her voice trembling. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes but she refused to let them fall, blinking them back as best she could. She could swear she heard him growl then, a dark sound of fury and frustration, before his fingers were suddenly closing around her throat. She gave a startled, choked cry and frantically attempted to pry his fingers loose, panic overwhelming her. She knew he was capable of losing his temper and flying into a fury – she'd witnessed enough of his tussles with paparazzi to know he had a short fuse – but she'd never been on the receiving end. And she never thought she would be.

"We are _not_ over. _You_ do not get to leave _me_, you ungrateful little bitch. I _made_ you."

He snarled; rage shooting like sparks from his eyes while hers widened in terror. She'd never been frightened of him before, not like this. His anger had always erupted in an apparent need to protect her. It had made her feel _safe_. But she certainly didn't feel safe right now.

"Emma, I still have your-_what the fuck?!"_

Killian suddenly appeared at the other side of the room; his head popping round the door that led out to the courtyard between his room and hers, her phone in his hand. His presence startled Neal, but not enough for him to loosen his grip on her neck. She could still breath, just about, but she was struggling. And she knew she was going to have bruises to show for it.

With Neal's attention shifted away from her momentarily, Emma managed to twist out of his grasp and bolted away from him, fingers cautiously rubbing her neck as she gulped in air. Killian reached for her as Neal strode toward them, fire in his eyes and his focus now entirely on Killian.

In one quick movement, Neal yanked Emma forcibly by the wrist and pulled her to him, twisting her arm behind her back and addressing Killian over her shoulder.

"You in the habit of stealing, _Killian Jones_? Because this piece is not on the market."

Neal snarled and Emma watched as Killian's expression darkened, his good hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist at his side as he visibly tried to rein in his emotions.

"Neal, I assume? I've heard _plenty_ about you," Killian leveled a deceptively calm gaze on the man, despite the murderous thoughts running through his mind, "And _Emma_ is not a _piece_. She is not your property. She's nobody's _property_. So no, _Neal Cassidy_, I did not steal her. I fell in love with her."

Emma's eyes widened at his admission and it felt as though the bottom had fallen out of her world. But Neal's tightening grip on her arm brought her crashing back into reality mere seconds later and she winced, attempting to relax in order to ease the sharp pain radiating through her shoulder from the angle he was holding her at. Neal barked a scornful laugh.

"You _fell in love_ with her? Oh how fucking romantic. I don't know how though, she's as broken as they come. She's said it herself; _unlovable_ was the word she used, if I remember rightly. Impossible to love, aren't you, _sweetheart_?"

He shoved her then, in one quick, hard move that had her stumbling forward. Killian's arms instinctively reached out to catch her, so he missed the way Neal raised his fist…but Emma didn't.

She'd glanced back at him in surprise when he'd let her go, and without thinking she pushed Killian out of the way with a sharp cry of his name. Barely a second later, faster than any of them could blink, Neal's fist connected with her face as she stepped in the way of his intended target.

"Shit…Emma…"

Neal's anger seemed to suddenly dissolve and he stared in horror as Emma staggered, her hand covering her cheek, thick silence descending on the room for long moments. The realization of what had just happened washed over them. Neal was stood stock still, frozen to the spot with the gravity of what he'd just done, and Killian rushed over to her side immediately. When she finally tipped her face up to meet Killian's distraught gaze, she saw something inside him snap.

He spun around then, fiery fury surging up inside him with the instant, feral need to defend her. She'd put herself in the line of fire to stop him getting hurt, and he couldn't quite believe she'd done that. The angry red imprints Neal had left around her neck should have been enough to dissuade her from pulling a stunt like that, but she'd reacted on impulse. And now she had a bust lip and an already-purpling bruise under her cheekbone to accompany the fingerprints on her neck.

"You son of a bitch."

Killian growled; propelled forward by his contempt for this man whom he'd never even met before. It was Neal's turn to stagger backward as Killian slammed his fist into his nose, barely even flinching with the sickening crack that filled the room on impact. That should have been enough, but Killian's blood was boiling and he stepped forward, dragging Neal by the collar and tossing him effortlessly against the closest wall. Even with only one good hand to use and cracked ribs to boot, he seemed to be besting him effortlessly.

Attempting to regain his footing and level the playing field, Neal scrambled for purchase, pointedly ignoring the fact that his nose was bleeding profusely. Emma could only watch, numb with shock, as Killian pulled back, ready to punch him again.

"Wait, Killian!"

Emma's shrill cry stopped him dead, fist stilling mid-air, and he looked back at her with confusion. Neal looked equally as confused, and they both waited, frozen, for her to continue. Walking slowly over to stand beside Killian, she met his gaze and covered his hand with her own, delicately lowering it. He searched her eyes for an explanation, but instead of supplying one, she spun round and punched Neal square in the face herself.

Neal slumped down to the floor, unconscious, and Emma winced, shaking her hand and wiggling her fingers. Killian stared at her in open-mouthed shock and she managed a small, awkward smile, shrugging nonchalantly and reaching up to gingerly touch her bust lip.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while."

She admitted and he let out a snort of surprised laughter. He couldn't help but stare in wonder at the woman in front of him. There seemed to be no end to her ability to surprise him. Stepping forward, his good hand tenderly tipped her chin up to him and his fingers delicately grazed over the bruise developing on her cheek. She was probably going to narrowly avoid sporting a black eye but the cut to her lip and the angry bluish-purple swelling under her cheekbone were going to be a little difficult to hide.

As his fingers lingered against her cheek, Emma darted a glance over to Neal and then found Killian's gaze once more.

"I don't care where we go…but can we please get out of here?"

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss into her hair and wrapping his arms around her. She didn't want to dwell on the fact that, even despite the drama that had just unfolded, she felt instantly safe and protected when she was wrapped in his arms.

"My room? Let's get you cleaned up in there," he mumbled into her hair, "I have a first aid kit."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

After ushering her out into the courtyard and gesturing grandly as he invited her into his room, Killian made for his closet, disappearing inside and calling out for her to make herself comfortable while he fumbled around.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, scanning the room, unsure of the etiquette dictating where she should sit in the given situation. His desk chair was too conspicuous, emphasizing that she was pointedly avoiding his bed. But the lounge chair was currently housing clean laundry, neatly folded, and she knew that moving it to take a seat was even more of an obvious, decisive avoidance of the bed.

So, chastising herself for making such a big deal over what should have been a simple decision, Emma perched on the edge of his bed, making a concerted effort _not_ to overthink it.

He reappeared from the closet a few minutes later, carrying a battered first aid kit. Setting it down on the bed, he opened it and dropped down onto his knees in front of her. With a small frown of concentration on his face, he dug through the box for some antiseptic wipes and it made her smile despite herself.

He was taking care of her and she'd never really known how to be okay with that before she'd met him. Her instinct was to brush it off, tell him she'd be fine and clean herself up in the bathroom, alone. But somehow, letting him take care of her, letting herself be vulnerable with this man who fit so easily into her soul as though he'd been her missing puzzle piece the whole time, didn't feel so scary.

"There's this art philosophy in Japan called _kintsukuroi_," he murmured suddenly, pushing her hair back off her face and brushing his fingers against her jaw, eyes never leaving hers, "they repair broken pottery with gold and silver lacquer. They don't try to disguise the cracks…they emphasize the beauty of them. Because those cracks, the broken parts, will always be there and will always be a part of the history of that piece…but they understand that it's more beautiful for having been broken and put back together. It's more beautiful than some people will ever appreciate."

Emma barely registered the fact that he'd already cleaned the cut on her lip by the time he fell silent and offered her a small, soft smile. His words were ricocheting around in her mind, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her heart beat a wild staccato in her chest. Unable to do anything but stare, Emma swallowed thickly. No one had ever spoken to her that way before. No one had ever wrapped up their words for her the way he did.

Leaning forward, she touched her nose to his in a gesture she would normally have deemed far too intimate for her to be comfortable with, and paused, before tentatively pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips. He was still on his knees in front of her, his good hand on her thigh, and he cautiously kissed back, very aware of her bust lip and the fact that this kiss was her way of responding to what he'd said. For her, words were a lot more difficult than actions.

She pulled back then, and he couldn't help but let his gaze drop as he watched, somewhat mesmerized, as the tip of her tongue gingerly worried the cut on her lip.

"You should rest, Emma," he said slowly, dragging his eyes upward to find her soft gaze, "I'll be right here. These past few days have been heavy, and the next few are probably going to be even worse, so rest while you can."

She was about to protest when a jaw-cracking yawn silenced her and she rolled her eyes as he chuckled. He was right, and they both knew it. They were going to have a challenging time once the media caught up with them, so she knew it was best to be fully rested. But with Neal passed out in the room opposite, nothing but a courtyard and a locked door between them, Emma didn't exactly feel at ease.

He noticed her eyes flicker over his shoulder toward her room and he stood up, reaching out to tenderly brush his thumb over the dimple in her chin.

"You don't have to worry about him, I promise. I'm not going to let him get anywhere near you."

And she believed him. So, without much reluctance at all, Emma crawled up toward the pillows, sighing as she snuggled down against his soft sheets. Tucking her knees up, she could feel the soothing tendrils of sleep immediately begin to curl their way around her. Her last thoughts before she drifted off were that his pillows smelled like him and perhaps she wouldn't mind falling asleep surrounded by him more often.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Killian couldn't help but smile as he watched her drift off easily, blonde hair fanned out in a golden halo across his pillow, body relaxing atop his sheets. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined her in his bed before now, but she'd been wearing significantly less clothing in those fantasies. Despite that fact, the image of her, fully clothed, feeling safe enough with him there to fall into an easy sleep, made his heart flutter.

He waited until he was sure she was soundly sleeping before slipping out of his room, across the courtyard, and into Emma's room where Neal was just starting to stir. He was somewhat relieved with his timing, not fancying going for round two with Emma's livid ex-boyfriend the moment he stepped into the room.

Striding over and crouching down next to Neal, Killian watched him carefully as he groaned, consciousness slowly beginning to return. He couldn't help but feel a flare of contempt from the man's mere presence, and he wondered what Emma had ever seen in him.

"What the hell…that bitch-"

Neal mumbled as he squinted, vision hazy and eyes swollen from the broken nose Killian had given him earlier. He had two black eyes and dried blood around his nose which had also stained his white t-shirt. When he tried to struggle to his feet, Killian shook his head and glared down at him, cutting him off before he had chance to finish his tirade.

"Don't you dare call her a bitch, you worthless piece of shit. She should have kicked your ass out of her life a long time ago. You're not going anywhere near her again."

"What are you, her new personal detail?" Neal snarled, but it lacked the venom he'd dished out earlier, "She'll come back to me in the end. She needs me."

"No, she really doesn't-"

"Oh, she needs _you_, does she? Listen, _mate_, I know she's great in bed and her little lost girl act really tugs at the heartstrings, but she's not worth it. She may be the hottest girl you've ever had but she's never gonna love you. How could she, when she's incapable of even _spelling_ the word?"

Killian felt the flurry of rage flare up inside him at Neal's words and his derisive snort. Before the man even had a chance to blink, Killian had hauled him to his feet and slammed him against the wall, just as he had done earlier before Emma had intervened.

"She was only incapable of loving _you_. And I'm glad, because she deserves so much more than you."

With that, Killian slammed Neal's head back against the wall and he slumped down, unconscious once again. It took a moment for Killian to compose himself and for his hands to stop shaking with the anger coursing through him.

He couldn't fathom how anyone could treat any woman the way Neal did, let alone a woman as beautiful and special and incredible as Emma. It angered and frustrated him endlessly that she'd had a man in her life who clearly only wanted her around so that he could control her every move. She was just a pawn piece in his record label chess game. A business transaction.

Scowling down at the unconscious asshole, Killian had to fight the urge to administer a few more blows to vent his contempt. Instead, he lifted him up – ignoring the protest from his ribs that screamed with the effort - and made for the hallway, Neal over his shoulder as though he was carrying a sack of potatoes, rather than Emma's unconscious ex-boyfriend.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Should I ask? Or should I just pretend I never saw you carrying a body down the hallway?"

Jane stopped dead as she rounded the corner on her way to Killian's room and almost crashed right into her almost-brother-in-law. She eyed the body he was hefting through the hotel before meeting Killian's gaze.

"Jane, meet Neal. He gave Emma a bust lip and, long story short, he's been knocked out a few times because of it."

Jane's eyes widened and she remembered what Emma had told him about her ex at the hospital.

_"__He's never physically hurt me. But I wouldn't be all that surprised if he tried to now that the emotional abuse isn't working."_

And apparently she'd been right. Jane couldn't help but feel a swell of pride knowing that Killian had clearly managed to protect Emma, even with one arm in a cast and a set of cracked ribs. She didn't generally condone physical violence, but this Neal guy clearly had it coming.

"Alright. Laundry closet," she said, sighing when Killian's eyes narrowed in confusion, "he's not gonna stay knocked out forever. And we need time to figure out what to do with him, and how to get you and Emma out of here while we do. So, laundry closet."

She gestured down the hallway and Killian nodded, following her lead while she fumbled for her keys.

"What do you mean get us out of here, Jane? Where are we supposed to go?"

"To the coast. Liam can drive you over there, and my family have the boat – I'll call ahead and they can have it ready for you."

Killian stopped as they reached the laundry closet and his frown deepened.

"Whoa, slow down. We can't just…leave. We're trying to keep a low profile-"

"How long do you think it's gonna be before the journalists find out your name and turn up here, Killy? Neal found you pretty damn quickly, and the rest of the world isn't going to be too far behind. You need to be as far from the hotel as you can get til it all dies down. We can handle them, throw them off for a little while, but you two need to keep your heads down…away from here."

As she helped him maneuver the still-unconscious Neal into the laundry closet, Killian mused over her words and the plan she'd so cleverly thought up. Jane had always looked after him, and she knew him even better than Liam did sometimes.

"But what about him? We can't just leave him locked in the laundry closet forever."

Jane smiled as she shut the door firmly and twisted the key til she heard the satisfying clunk of the lock. The door was thick, solid oak and if Neal tried to forcibly break through it when he woke up, he'd be more likely to dislocate his shoulder than to escape.

"You leave him to us; we'll figure something out. Now, go pack a bag for each of you and I'll have Liam bring the car out."


End file.
